I've been healing up since my surgery on Thursday. I had a pouch full of shiny stones that they got out of my system--quite the collection as it turned out. They almost had to go in with a full incision, and boy am I happy they didn't have to do that! So I'm at the parental units' house mending. Mom has made two batches of bread, one French bread and one whole wheat. I think the majority of my calories for the past several days has come from jam and bread! But it's fat free, which is the requirement for my food for the week. I'll start adding in heavier foods next week and see how much I can press my luck.
I feel perfectly fine for a few hours in morning, and I can push myself to do things outside of my body's comfort zone, like to do my daily walk. But then I'm dead. It may have just been laparoscopic surgery, but they still had to root around in there and cause damage. Convincing my brain of this, however, is sometimes rather difficult!
I've this week off of work, which sometimes seems silly, like in the mornings, then seems rather like a good idea as the day goes on. Could I go in? Sure. Would I be useful? Nope. I got some work done from the house and managed to flub it but good on the first round. This is why I have quality control people on the project.
Finally, I will manage to end up at my own house Thursday afternoon. I will. I have things that need done and YouTube to watch from the couch. Including yelling at the new treadmill's software company for bricking my machine. Automated responses are getting old for the same non-changed issue.
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