I have to wonder if it's the way I was raised? I'm sick. A cold, more than likely. I feel like crap. I should just go to bed and sleep. And yet, here I am, trying to get some work done. I mean, I planned it that way. Surgery on Tuesday, get an organ removed, go home, get a few "no lifting involved" things done while I took a few days to recuperate, feel accomplished. Really? That's what I expected? I mean, I had an organ removed! True, one we don't need to survive, but still. I went to an outpatient center, the doc yanked it out, and I went home two hours later. (Is that not the most amazing thing? It kind of blows my mind--not a wart, not a tooth- a gol-damn organ! and home by noon, for f*ck's sake!)
Anyway, I didn't like the pain meds, they made me feel like my head was stuffed with cotton. So I Tylenoled it. And apparently got a cold. It took me all morning yesterday to talk myself into calling the doctor to see if I should do something. What, I don't know. But still, you hear about people getting pneumonia after surgery and they had said if I had any problems to call. But I didn't want to 'bother' him/them, or sound like a whiner. Again, for f*ck's sake, I just had surgery three days prior. I wasn't whining! And it's his job--it's what he gets paid for! And he was very nice. (I really like my doctor) Told me to rest, push fluids, NyQuil it, call if symptoms get worse.
And here I sit at the computer, trying to get some work done and thinking about the Avon order that is sitting in the box in the next room that needs bagged, and telling myself to just GO BACK TO BED!
I will. After I start a load of laundry.