Wednesday, February 20, 2008

An Open Letter.

Dear Natural Ovens Bread Company,

You have saved my life this morning. Your thick and chewy whole wheat bread stuck to my insides enough to survive the dry heaves (ew, sorry, TMI) and I'm now feeling so much better than a few hours ago.

I heart you and all of your grainey goodness.

Love, Sarah.

Tried to do some leg lifts, quad tightening thingies, and then sat on the edge of the bed and GENTLY (for the love of god GENTLY) tried to do some bending and straightening. Not going to lie, I got to about 70 degrees and started to cry. Because it hurt, and it's scary, and it felt "funny", and because I think I could feel the stitches pulling a little which freaked me the fuck out, and because I was happy that it at least bent that much. Honestly I was expecting it to be impossible.

Now that I don't feel like I'm going to pull an Exorcist all over the place, I should probably eat more of said Magic Toast and try to take a little bit of medicine. The exercises will be easier when things aren't throbbing in there.

I'm trying not to get nervous about the order in which I do things or if I'm doing everything "right" or whatever. I feel a little bit like the docs sort of just did and sent me home...maybe I don't remember some of the instructions. I guess I could always call the nurses or something.

Have to change the dressing tomorrow. As Shayna suggested, "it'll be like opening a present on X-Mas morning!" yeah. An oozing swollen bruised and nasty present. That's attached to your body. Where the hell did my tolerance for blood and gore go? Weird.

Time to put the Game Boy Boyfriend back on.

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