The surgical PA came in to assess and formally discharge me.
"I had a WTF moment when I first read your chart and had to stop and re-read it multiple times."
Girl, SAME.
She peeked at my surgical sites inside my compression bra and inhaled sharply, "Oh I am so sorry. Wow."
Well that sounded promising.
But at least I was being discharged where I know my mom, sis, and hubby would be able to manage my pain medication...as well as my every move.
But just getting "dressed" to leave presented its own challenges (and pain), so I was grateful not to be going home alone.
While it felt so good to be home - I quickly realized it would be a bit of time before I felt able enough to do all the normal things (bathe/shower myself, wash and do my hair, put my own underwear on, hold a gallon of milk, lift my arms anywhere near 90 deg, and the list went on).
Honestly though, my biggest concern?!?
Being able to POOP (and then, well, clean up said poop).
....I did poop later that day AND was very grateful that I had big hands and long fingers.
Small victories.
As I was unable to pull myself up - even with all the positioning with foam wedges, etc - my couch became my bed. My mom and sis went upstairs with extreme separation anxiety while Hubby "slept" next to me, setting his alarm for all my meds to ensure I didn't miss anything.
❤️
you got this girl.
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