I feel like I’m two people at the moment. One of these people is tired of sitting on the couch and ready to jump back into the fray. School drop-offs, grocery shopping, errands running, and manuscript writing! Bring it on! Rawr! The other person is tired, stifled, and uninspired after a week of painkillers, painkiller detox, crappy sleep, and routine disruption.
To be honest, I’m never sure what to do at this point in recovery, because I always end up here eventually. There always comes a time when I’m functional enough to do most of my jobs, but so out of it after a weird week off that it all seems overwhelming and impossible. My life has revolved around ice packs and med schedules for the last seven days, now all of a sudden I’m supposed to go back to running things? How?
It doesn’t help that one of my children, who shall remain nameless, woke me up at 5 AM this morning, a scant hour after I went back to sleep after a 3 AM Tylenol dose. I think I got four-ish hours of sleep. Boo.
So this is an honest view of recovery. I can only sleep on one side because of the stitches on the outside of my leg, I’m still waking up to take Tylenol in the middle of the night, I find making toast overwhelming, and driving in the car makes my knee ache. My brain is stuffed full of cotton and all I want to do is watch TV, but then when I do watch TV all I want to do is want to write.
That said, I need to get back into my routine. One cannot survive indefinitely on The Office reruns and midday naps, and I don’t want to completely lose track of the novel I’m working on.
As for the fact that my next surgery is a lot more invasive and will take me down for a lot longer than this one? La la la! I can’t hear you! Denial is a perfectly valid coping mechanism!
Send chocolate and hugs, you guys.