A Delicate Operation

I'm six days into my month-long initial recovery period from an operation. It's been an interesting six days.

The hospital stay (Monday night) was good. I actually have a perverse affection for hospital stays. The feeling of being subject to regular official care, maybe. There's also the smug but not altogether unsubstantiated belief that I make a good patient. I love anaesthetic and the excusable cloudiness it yields.

Got home Tuesday morning. The ensuing 48 hours were bliss. Friend visits, care packages, flowers, naps in between, Rufus picking up on my "situation" and remaining, out of deference, consistently sleepy. I also got through all of Season 1 of West Wing. I relished being out of action.

Thursday afternoon - something changed. My body temperature felt like it was beginning to creep below healthy levels. My muscles ached from inactivity. Being unable to lie flat on my back, sides or stomach, and my range of movement being otherwise very limited, there were only so many ways I could sleep/read/watch TV. I was suffocatingly bored. My back ached from sleeping upright. I didn't feel like reading, didn't feel like watching West Wing (!), didn't even feel like talking to Rufus or like receiving visits. The only thing I wanted was to sleep until the pain went away and I could resume normal activities. And, as the anaesthetic wore off and I made my way through all the Endone, I could no longer sleep through the day. All this after only three days' inactivity. A terrible patient I make.

On a walk with SG (it lasted 20 minutes and required a two-hour nap afterwards) SG offered that my feelings of coldness, sadness and restlessness are all indications that I'm getting better. I suppose that's true: they're reflections of listlessness, of wanting to be outside in the sunshine when I know my body can't - and won't, for a long while yet - handle it. Indications are that I should be able to start driving by tomorrow. A few days' hence I will resume normal non-intensive daily activities. No exercise for five more weeks, although thankfully walking is fine. New job starts tomorrow week.

Here's what I want to do but can't, in order of preference:

1. Take Rufus for a brisk walk in the sunshine.
2. Buy fresh ingredients from the market before cooking a Sunday roast.
3. Cycle to a local pub where I'd drink pear cider with mates and order fries w aioli.
4. Plop myself into the jacuzzi at Harold Holt Pool.
5. Take Rufus to Sunday morning obedience classes.
6. Make (and eat) blueberry pancakes.
7. Do 5 sessions of Bikram yoga.
8. Get a wax, a massage, a facial, a tan. Girly things.
9. Go for a bushwalk.
10. Go for a beach walk.

For some reason it took me all of six days to realise that I could use my blog as a forum for detailing my progression to health and happiness. Good things to come.