Here’s what happened: I woke up; nothing hurt, at least not much; but I woke up.
This morning I counted up the number of surgery scars on my body. Eleven in all. Dan says I’m done now with surgeries. I believe him … he’s never lied to me — ever. We made a pact. I’ll have no more surgeries and he’ll drop putts like Tiger Woods. The bargain is good for me, perhaps unachievable for Dan.
I was instructed to remove my bandaging today — 72 hours after the time of my surgery. Dan made me wait until the stroke of noon. Then we took scissors and all the good wishes we could muster and cut open layers of bandages that had held my fingers still and filled with anticipation for three days.
It looks good!
I’m swollen and bruised. My skin is stretched tight and thin as onion paper. Still, it looks good.
The doctor says I can do what I want as long as it doesn’t hurt. “If it hurts,” he intones, “don’t do it.”
I won’t type long. It pinches.
Still, on the occasion of the eleventh opening of Auburn McCanta, I woke up … it didn’t hurt much … but I woke up.
I’m trying to remember how long I was supposed to wait before removing the bandages after my surgery last spring. I’m guessing it was three or four days. I do remember that I had surgery on a Wednesday, and went back for the doctor to look at it the following Thursday. I’d already removed the bandages (as per directions) prior to that. Rather than “don’t if it hurts,” I was merely told not to lift anything more than 10 lbs. Surprising how many things gained weight! Ha ha!
Maybe things have changed, but my instructions were so non-instructional, I can’t help but wonder why I was given such deliverance from all former constraints. I figure if I can start the car with both hands, I’m home free.
The nice thing is that I’m typing without pain (albeit, I’m swollen like crazy). I think one of the benefits of my former brain surgery is that my nerve endings are fried like Southern chicken on a Carolina Sunday. Nevertheless, a glass of wine and I’m good to go. Yee Haw!
Whew! The 11th is the charm….no more for you, many putts for Dan…next time you are in the kitchen get a cookie for me (I had CAKE tonight…..oh my…..wall Street be damned, I still have chocolate cake.)
I promise … I’m not going to go for an even dozen. I swear, I am SO not the Nadya Suleman of scars. All done now! 🙂