As I write this very, very late on Sunday night (although many would call this Monday morning), it has been 30 days since my surgery. I have often bemoaned the ridiculously quick passage of time that happens after one reaches a certain age, but when it comes to post-surgery, I'm all for it.
There are stages that you go through in post-surgery and that worst one was horrible but, it too, passed after a decent night's sleep. That very worst stage is a feeling of deep depression, but because my whole system is anti-THAT, it lasted just a few hours before I fell asleep. Plus I think I had some mild insanity from stopping the heavy pain killers, which I did pretty early. I remember one night, mashed into my pillow, on my back, of course, and feeling like my hair was attacking my head and was going to swallow my face. It was so overwhelming I was thinking I should get a buzz cut.
Last Tuesday, I tied my shoes and was so proud like a four-year-old and was telling everyone, "I tied my shoes today!" Speaking of Tuesdays, that's when I do my physical therapy. The girl was working on turning my arm out and I told her my arm didn't do that much turning out to begin with and that I was far more interested in turning my arm in. I will never be fully independent again until I can hook my bra. My neighbor hooks my bra for me on Tuesdays (Thanks Carole!). And My Sweetie does it on the weekend when we go out.
And we have gone out the last two weekends and it was nice to get out. I even got new shoes. It felt good to do normal stuff. I still have a long way to go to get full function in my left arm, but I can aways do a little bit more every day and I like that. Life is good and time passes and right now, time passing is not a bad thing.