Within the last 12 hours a whole bunch of shitbag things have happened.
That rash I mentioned yesterday started to itch around bedtime. I’m talking, threat-level red, itching. 6 hours, 3 benadryl, 1 muscle relaxer and 1 anti-anxiety drug (all sedatives) later, I am still wide awake.
I had goldilock-ed my way around the house. My recliner, a bed, a couch, another empty bed. Itching really is the depths of misery and when it’s in the middle of the night, it somehow fans out into extreme despair.
I finally gave up trying to sleep and just started watching Scandal on Netflix. That show is pretty darn great for binge watching, but if you are a delicate emotional flower like me, not the best material to lead one into a restful slumber. Olivia’s dad?! Holy shit.
Light at the end of the tunnel. I had an 8am post-op appointment with the plastic surgeon. I was sure he would round down and take my drains out. They need to be under 30ml/day for two days. Yesterday I was at 34/35 so I figured he would give me a pass.
That did not happen. When he said he wouldn’t take them out until the output was truly under 30ml for 2 days in a row I burst into tears. I’m talking real sadness, guys. These drains are a constant reminder of my illness, of all the things I cannot do. I’m sorry to say it, but I hate them. Hate x 3.
So no sleep, legs that have been itched to the point of bleeding and I remain a cyborg indefinitely until my output steadily lowers. I’m pretty, pretty, pretty cranky (read like Larry David).
My next surgery is 1 week from today when I will get another drain placed and we start the whole timeline over.
I am done trying to discreetly hide my drains. If you see me on the street with tubes hanging out of my body and a murderous look on my face, best to avoid eye contact and walk the other way.
Oh and my root canal tooth still hurts like a mother.
You’ve been warned…
Sadness. We love you. Hang on.
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Dear Grace. My fondest memory of you happened during the time Jack and I visited with you and your parents in Glencoe. You were maybe nine or ten. Jennie was away. You were trying to show us a trick flip on the swing set in the back yard. It wasn’t going well but you kept assuring us (and yourself?) : “I can do this. I can do this.” And after a number of tries, with fierce concentration, you did it! Jack and I applauded and kept that memory of our very determined little niece.
Much love from here.
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Hang in there Grace……
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ugh. ugh. love you sister.
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ugh. ugh. ugh. love you sister.
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Didn’t the doctor prescribe something for this awful rash? Has he no heart?Steroids are needed immediately. Before you go nuts!
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You poor bunn.y. I’ve been there (3 surgeries down, one to go) including a life threatening infection! I have some great tips for drains and a vest with drain pockets which is so comfortable, plus a snazzy necklace (miniature dog leaseI made for hanging them on when I showered Reach out if you need to, I wish I had…… Justine (friend of Nicole)
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