It’s been 5 days since my surgery, and if any of you are like me you are a little tired of my talk of recovery. It should be no surprise that I’m tired of talking about it–and more relevant–of having FESS recovery rule my life. I get a few hours of useful time at a stretch, that is generally consumed by making food, moving files around on a laptop, or more likely just waiting. I have gone to the supermarket with the help a friend on Saturday, and we drove which made it feasible. I still over exerted myself as I was definitely throbbing in pain by the return, but after a quick rest, I did manage to join them in enjoying a bbq and eating outside for the first time this year.
I would never have thought that an operation on my sinus would be so debilitating. I’m almost always thinking about something relating to pain management, wound care, or resting, if not directly then indirectly. People call to check in and I describe what’s going on, but more then once I’ve had to knock that off take a percocet and go lay down. This was a minor surgery too.
One of my roommates had a clot in her liver spent 8 days in the hospital recently, which in terms of life and limb is much worse. She’s had several surgeries and they didn’t get the clot fully removed. She’s likely going to have to be on coumadin for at least 6 months if not the rest of her life. She out now ant this stay was 2 weeks ago, but she’s decided to take next week off as she jumped the gun in returning to work as she felt dizzy and nausea at work. She was the one I went to the supermarket, as we are both infrmed and her nice boyfriend agreed to shuttle us around. I think she’s dealing with a similar sort of regular misery, the type that is hard to manage because it seems never ending.
Of course all of this is all the more frustrating as my list of things to do before I leave isn’t really getting shorter. Packing up and moving isn’t going to happen by itself, yet I’m not really in any shape to do any of these tasks. Especially if I keep having to take Percocet for throbbing teeth and sinuses. Needless to say I’m irritable, and I can’t even go for a run to help clear my head. I’m sort of running a revolving door of obsessed frustration distracted by narcotics, sleep, and the clatter of other peoples lives. I think it’s the latter, the calls and listening to the stories of my friends in their day-to-day existances, which has kept me sane. (Thank you!)
The upside is that everything has gotten noticeably better then 5 days ago when Alex brought me home. I can now breath through my nose instead of mouth breathing (which is a special form of irritation for me, and I can’t say why). I’m down to about 2 Percocet per day. I’ve got about 36 hours from now till the packing comes out (YAY!). The drainage, even with the packing in it, is signifigantly better then before the surgery. I’m more or less not dripping blood anymore, although I’m keeping my gauze mustashe just in case. Probably the best part of it all is that I can sleep again, although it’s still sleeping upright I’ve had two nights in a row where I got around 12 hours of sleep in a 13-14 hour period (this as opposed to the 2-3 hour cat naps every 6 hours). I’m definately on the mend.
I’m very, very glad I didn’t try and leave on tax day to visit Angela or Andrew. I don’t think it would have happened. I think I will be good by the time the 30th rolls around, but it’s going to be a heck of a road.
