So after the craziness of the morning, I was determined to try and get as much rest as possible. Tomorrow is a big day. I have to start back to work and I have to go down the stairs for the first time, get in the car, and visit my urologist to see if I can finally get free of this catheter. Nick's Senior Boards are tomorrow. He's expecting to present between noon and 12:30. I have to get down the stairs around 12:20 thanks to the urologist calling and telling me that my appointment had to be moved up to 12:50 instead of the 3:30 time they'd told me. Nick was going to be my strong man backup doing those stairs, but now, probably not. BREATHE.
I also realized this morning I am down to five pain pills. I'm doing better stretching them out, but now I've stopped taking them even though I'm not completely comfortable because I can't get a refill and I don't want to run out and be in agony at some point later in the week. I called Target, told the pharmacist my RX number and he stopped me three numbers in. "Oh, wait, your RX starts with 220? That's a written 'script only. You will have to go to your doctor's office to get her to rewrite that."
So I call the doctor's office (the recording says to call my pharmacy for refill issues -- HA!) and leave a voice quavering pitiful message, "Dr Watt said it wouldn't be a problem, but I don't think I can come in to get a new one written, and I'm running out and even though I'm trying to spread them out more, I'm down to maybe two days left and . . and. . .and . . )
So here I am, after all of that, trying to relax and wait for the nurse to call me back and I get this warm, purry feeling . . . Faith has slowly crept up into my lap, despite the difficulties I've placed in her way.
She must have sensed I needed a warm kitty compress.
I try to move a bit and pull a pillow across the abdomen to dissuade her from moving around on my incision. So this is what I ended up with:
Butt up under my chin and shoulder, still purring, still warm. I do my deep breathing and let the purr therapy do its work.
Then there's a knock at the door. The florist has just delivered and I never even heard the doorbell. Clearly, the relaxation is working.
And now I have flower therapy!
How cute is this flower puppy!! And she comes with Godiva chocolates. Marci, you are an angel and your timing was impeccable.
And afterward I finally fell asleep for more than an hour, with a flower puppy on one side, and a big Evan puppy on the other.
The nurse called around 3:00 and they are calling in something different that can be refilled without a hand-written script that is basically the same thing, just without Tylenol added in.
Still BREATHING. Still thankful. Still laughing, even when it hurts.
I also realized this morning I am down to five pain pills. I'm doing better stretching them out, but now I've stopped taking them even though I'm not completely comfortable because I can't get a refill and I don't want to run out and be in agony at some point later in the week. I called Target, told the pharmacist my RX number and he stopped me three numbers in. "Oh, wait, your RX starts with 220? That's a written 'script only. You will have to go to your doctor's office to get her to rewrite that."
So I call the doctor's office (the recording says to call my pharmacy for refill issues -- HA!) and leave a voice quavering pitiful message, "Dr Watt said it wouldn't be a problem, but I don't think I can come in to get a new one written, and I'm running out and even though I'm trying to spread them out more, I'm down to maybe two days left and . . and. . .and . . )
So here I am, after all of that, trying to relax and wait for the nurse to call me back and I get this warm, purry feeling . . . Faith has slowly crept up into my lap, despite the difficulties I've placed in her way.
She must have sensed I needed a warm kitty compress.
I try to move a bit and pull a pillow across the abdomen to dissuade her from moving around on my incision. So this is what I ended up with:
Butt up under my chin and shoulder, still purring, still warm. I do my deep breathing and let the purr therapy do its work.
Then there's a knock at the door. The florist has just delivered and I never even heard the doorbell. Clearly, the relaxation is working.
And now I have flower therapy!
How cute is this flower puppy!! And she comes with Godiva chocolates. Marci, you are an angel and your timing was impeccable.
And afterward I finally fell asleep for more than an hour, with a flower puppy on one side, and a big Evan puppy on the other.
The nurse called around 3:00 and they are calling in something different that can be refilled without a hand-written script that is basically the same thing, just without Tylenol added in.
Still BREATHING. Still thankful. Still laughing, even when it hurts.
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