This Choice?

In many ways this has been the vacation I think I want when I'm in the midst of just too too much. Lots of sleep, though the dreams are a bit weird, like the snake I forgot I had and needed to feed for years, so I needed to wake up and clean up and go to the pet store - if I still could find one - that carried frozen mice for it to eat.

Somebody to cook for me, bringing my meals exactly as ordered, though the orders are limited to what's still in the house and what won't bump up my blood sugar. It does get boring after a bit when I can't just stop for Hot Wings or a Wendy's apple pecan chicken salad or mongolian beef on my way home from wherever because I haven't been out to wherever. Then again, no appetite.

Lots of reading, though my tailbone gets tired from sitting in the same way in the chair after a bit and I fall asleep on the book anyway.

No expectations of my taking care of my dad - at least not this week yet- because he gets it when my answer to his inquiry of how I'm doing informs him I'm still healing but slowly.

But the view is monotonous, no mountains, lakes, ocean waves, and little of interest on the DVR. Then again, no ambition to actually go anywhere I'd have to want to stay awake for. Nobody get the idea that you should come rescue me by taking me out for a drive to somewhere else. Please.

The last of the percoset pills get taken tonight, and after this it's only ibuprofin. I expect I'll sleep less, move more, and engender a bit more of an appetite. Oh, and hurt more, but after a week, I'm doing fairly well. I'm maintaining the 10 lbs of weight loss from the morning I went in, though the belly is still tender and a bit puffy, and way too easily will flop from side to side. I can drive after two weeks, lift only 10 lbs. for the next 4-6 after that. I could have showered by now, but the dressing is itching like crazy, and I suspect drawing any attention to it will drive me insane enough to worry it right off, something that shouldn't happen until next Thursday. The stitches will all absorb, so none to remove. Best take no chances with exposing them early . I can't smell myself, so though I feel grungy, there's nothing driving me to take a shower. Nobody else has been rude enough to complain.

I go back to the surgeon for a chechup 3-4 weeks after surgery. I expect next week I'll be clearheaded enough to remember to make that call. I kinda remembered sometime after office hours on Friday. I've had Paul monitoring my percoset usage because I've been too muzzy to figure out how many hours since - say, when was the last one again?

For all the laziness I claim to want when I'm overloaded, this complete indolence would drive me nuts for a planned vacation. It you're too drugged to be bored, you're not bored. If you're not too drugged, then you are bored, and that's no vacation. So next vacation will be called a honeymoon, located in scattered places on the Arizona map, and will have enough activities built in that I can entertain myself by complaining about how little free time I have.

Sounds ideal. I'll bring the camera for it.