Can’t sleep. Painsomnia again. I guess part of the reason that Thursday was such a good pain day for me is because I literally spent 23 hours in bed. It just happens once every week or two as a result of my body rebelling against life, so of course I wasn’t in pain since I wasn’t up at all. But since I was moving about the house yesterday, now my pain is ramping up again, keeping me awake into the wee hours. I apologize that this is going to be very stream of consciousness, but I’m just holing up in the guest bedroom trying to distract myself until the pain meds kick in.
Waiting for pain meds to kick in is like waiting for a baby to be born. Although I suppose that might be a poor analogy for me, since I’ve never had a baby. Stupid infertility. Stupid analogy. Forget it.
But still, I’m only 2 1/2 weeks post-op. It takes things awhile to heal. Yesterday was the first day I was able to go without any dressings on my incisions at all, since they’ve just now finally closed. I think I’m about on par with where I was after my last surgery, although I remember those incisions took longer to heal because I was already back at work and still having to put dressings on them. At least I don’t have any internal pain like I did last time, with all the endometriosis being excised out of my pelvic sidewalls and all the healing that had to happen there. This time it was just a hernia the size of a lemon that was sewn shut. So my pain is really only incisional this time around, which is nice.
I have five cats on the bed with me. Not sure how we’re going to work it out once I go to sleep. At least one or two of them are going to have to move. Someone needs to go downstairs and sleep with daddy.
I suppose I could attempt to distract myself with a book. I’m about to start reading The Vow by Felicity Goodrich. I’m a sucker for WWII historical fiction. No idea why. I always have been. Perhaps I was born out of time. But anyway, this one is about Anna, a devout Catholic teenager in Poland, and Szymon, the young village priest, who it appears inevitably fall in love with each other through the turmoils of war. At least that’s my summary based on the back cover.
40 days until my brain surgery. Brain surgery. Two words I never thought would apply to me in my life. But if I really want to get my life back and be able to have children, this is something I must do. Not that I’m not terrified, because I am. Endoscopic or not, it’s still brain surgery. A lot could (rarely) go wrong. I could have a stroke. I could develop diabetes insipidus. I could die. Minor details. I suppose David and I should maybe think about getting a living will and medical POA set up before this one, just in case. I’ve gone under the knife four times without anything like that, but this is by far the riskiest of any of those surgeries. Anything could happen, even in experienced hands. I don’t want to leave anything to chance, you know what I mean? I love David too much to think of anything happening to him if something happens to me and I’m permanently disabled in some way.
Ok, pain meds are starting to kick in now, because I’m a little more comfortable. Thank goodness.
And now we’re having a rainstorm. This room has skylights. Awesome. I love rain during the summer and being able to hear it on the roof is even better. That might lull me off to sleep…