περιπλάνηση: The View from the Bed, Post-Op Day 2

So the learning curve continues.

I slept in the Game Ready again last night, but I'm going to try to do without it for night #3. It requires ice refreshing in the middle of the night that's invasive for everyone and it also means as the machine cycles on and off I keep waking up. That wasn't the case the first night in the hospital when I was still heavily anesthetized, but now I'll use it at key points during the day only.

My view with the hip strapped into the Game Ready wrap. Note Katy, laying on the floor by the door, who continues to be my primary obstacle to get to the bathroom. She just insists on keeping guard.

Here's a view of the system itself, which we've installed at the end of the bed on a bench. It can be programmed to cycle at different intervals and the knob can change how cold the water temperature is, assuming you've stocked it full of ice.

The Game Ready lady suggested we freeze water bottles (with labels removed so they couldn't come loose and end up in the filter) and swap them out. You can get three at a time frozen in the tank, and then add water around them.

Since it's been unusually warm, the windows have been opened and I opted to forego the fuzzy pajama pants and go with boxers. So I need the towel to protect my skin from the very cold water circulating through the wrap. Pretty!

From yesterday, there's a vast improvement on me getting myself out of bed, on my crutches, to the bathroom, and back without any assistance. I'm working with the brace, but staying very close to the bed for the most part. I'd rather baby the hip for the first days while the swelling goes down and the tissues start to heal.

Which means most of my view, in between drugged naps and playing around on the computer, was of this:

At least I have a nice view of the sunset from here.

this is Bru's version of being "on guard"

Managed a shower today with the shower chair and assistance, with sheets changed and fresh clothes and washed hair, life is good, even if it is confined to a 100 square feet.

that fish stool has turned out to be vital in the climb into bed.

once I get on the bed and start to scoot back toward the pillows I lean on, though, this inevitably happens. I can't reach down to get the slipper back on.

And Faith isn't any help at all.

Scroll down if'n you wanna see the stitches!

Here's the damage, which isn't bad at all. Two holes side by side in two places, and Dr. X's autograph fading fast right at the pants line. They actually have sterilized pens he breaks open, signs on the operative leg, and then hands you. I have a souvenir.