Depression, Weird Sleep Pattern, and Dog Poop.

[katekosar]

I am exactly two weeks post-op on my second BHR.  The first was three years ago.  I knew what I was getting into the second time around, and I resolved to "go with the flow" more than I had with the first.  I did everything they told me to do at the hospital.  I packed interesting reading and low-carb food options.  I resolved to be pleasant to my husband, who is tending to our household (four dogs, two cats, a yard that needs mowing, clothes that need washing, floors that need vacuuming ... my goodness how did I do so much in such pain for so long?).

It's 2:30 in the morning.  It is quiet.  I am watching a TV show about comets and catastrophes.  I crutched into the kitchen and made a keurig with heavy whipping cream and Torani sugar free caramel.  Then, in an intricate balance of crutch and cup, I began the dance of finagling the hot stuff into the bedroom.  And I saw it.

Dog poop.  In the middle of the living room.  And, off to the side, looking extremely chagrined, sits my 10 month old bulldog, Elmo.  His eyes are half-closed, trying to deny the dastardly deed.

My husband is upstairs snoring.  I don't want to wake him up.  Nor, frankly, do I want to smell dog poop all night.  So I put the coffee on the mantle, crutch over to the dog poo bags, grab one, open it, crutch back, and stand over the offending pile, open bag in hand, crutches against the wall, wondering ... wondering ...

The Doc on Duty at the hospital, a wonderfully funny fellow with an inner light set on "glow," gave me two rules on discharge:  1.  don't fall.  2.  don't fall.  I intended on obeying both.

So there I am, in the middle of the living room, 2:30 in the morning, coffee cooling, crutches cast off, and I slowly bend down, bag in hand, sensing my balance from years and years of yoga, swimming, biking, running, all coming to the forefront, holding me up in space and time, as I reach down and fold the offending mass into the bag.  Then equally slowly, up I go, wrap the bag, tie the knot, and place the bag on a table.  I intend to display the results of my arabesque to my husband when he wakes up some four hours hence.  And he will tell me how far I have progressed.  And I will accept his kind words, and the depression will skitter into the corner again for a while.

And I'll imagine how very nice it will be, on my two bionic hips, to take off for a nice, long, pain-free walk down in the metroparks with Mister Elmo, who can thereafter do his business where he's supposed to.

Cheers!

Kate

[Pat Walter]

Ha Ha Ha, I am still laughing.  I now only have 7 dogs left from my rescue days.  There is nothing worse than finding a present in the middle of the living room - usually after a thunderstorm when someone is afraid to go out!  Got that completley :P

One way of bending down is to keep one crutch on the operated side(or other side, which ever is easier) and put your operated leg in back of you so you can bend down from the waist while having support and balance on the other leg.  A lot of people end up doing that.

Keep chugging along - you will get there!!!!! 

Pat

[hernanu]

hilarious.