It appears I survived the surgery, and the surgeon seems pleased with himself, so I’m cautiously optimistic about how it will turn out.
In the meanwhile, Ow. You may quote me on that.
The first 24 hours weren’t too bad, pain-wise. Because I had a nerve block. Once that started wearing off, Ow. The oxycodone seems to be taking the edge off it, fortunately. The worst part is the passive stretching exercises I’m supposed to do three times a day; even the junior-strength heroin can’t keep that from being a little … uncomfortable.
The worst part so far, though, has been the awkward effect deep anesthesia has on my smooth muscles. It’s a personal idiosyncrasy, I think. I had to be briefly catheterized before checking out of the hospital, because the plumbing just wouldn’t open. After I got home, it was touch and go, so to speak, but I finally was able to “void” on my own. A huge relief.
Major surgery turns you into a two-year-old. “You peed! Good! You pooped! Good! Oh, and now you’re feeding yourself! Good!”
I could brain Angel. the Cat, though. She seems to think all that wrapping on my shoulder is upholstery, and having ten pounds of cat abruptly plop down on my cut-up shoulder in the middle of the night was decidedly unpleasant.
Fuller account to follow, someday.