Well, I'm still kicking everybody.
Never had so many holes poked in me either. Or wristbands. Four different wristbands, even one that brands me a
"Fall Risk" and I quit counting how many times they stuck me for something. For all that blood, you'd think one of them wristbands should have gotten me backstage at a Fleetwood Mac show.
Wow, what an adventure. I'd like to tell you all more about it, but I honestly can't remember a lot of the first day. There are still fairly large blocks missing. I wasn't quite prepared for that degree of deep pain. I had two boosters of morphine Tuesday night and still didn't sleep. I made sounds Tuesday night that Donna-Jean would've been proud of. By Wednesday afternoon though, they had it under control with ordinary pills, and were going to send me home. I couldn't be left unsupervised at my home in that condition, so my friends Ted and Deb brought me back to their house. That's where I've been since, until today. The crazy stuff finally broke, and they brought me home to my house. I'll be getting checked on several times a day rather than the constant watch, but at least I'm at home in the familiar.
Still having a very hard time eating/swallowing, but I'm able. Got the pain meds back to a manageable shift.
Maybe the best news is this: Dr. Harron, my rockstar/neurosurgeon came in to see me before they discharged me, and said that they saw a marked improvement in my neural activity in the affected area during, and after the surgery. They had me hooked up to a bunch of monitors to watch for just this apparently, and what they saw was a best-case scenario. He'll see me in two weeks for follow-up.
So I got that going my way.
Many Thanks Everyone, for the well-wishes, prayers, good vibes, and general good humor. You guys are the best.
*the view from my bed... a grim reminder (as if I needed one) what that wristband meant!
