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My post-operative parachute

on October 24, 2012

I don’t post much at the moment because I don’t get chance. I don’t get chance because Small Girl doesn’t really sleep.  She won’t feed to sleep, she won’t be patted to sleep, she doesn’t want me to lie down with her.  I have no idea how to get her to go to sleep.  What she does like doing is mucking around with Big Girl for hours until she’s exhausted and crying and then, eventually feeding to sleep. There’s usually some refereeing needed when she pulls Big Girl’s hair or pinches her – I always assumed it would be the younger child who needed protecting from the older, but it seems not.

So tonight the children are at Ex-Husband’s house.  And I’m at home alone, preparing for my operation tomorrow.  After the bowel investigation I’m going to have my piles sorted out.  For the past few weeks I’ve been mentioning that I’m going to have a small operation done, which leads to people trying to look like they’re concerned without looking like they’re prying. I don’t mind telling people what I’m having done, but I don’t like to say because I imagine people don’t really want to think about my bum. However, by avoiding telling them, it becomes a massive thing (and, yes, a blog post. Another one) and then I end up explaining anyway.

It feels a bit weird. I’m having at least a week off work, possibly more.  And then I’ve got a week’s annual leave. So I kind of feel like I have this massive holiday ahead of me, which will be very pleasant after the stressful few weeks at work. I just keep forgetting that (a) I’m going to be really sore. *Really* sore. No, apparently even more sore than that.  And that (b) some of the time I’ll be trying to look after two children who don’t really understand the concept of post-operative recovery.

And it feels a bit weird because I’m going for an operation with no-one waiting for me when I wake up. Ex-Husband won’t be there to look after me. I am rubbish with general anaesthetics and tend to just cry until someone makes me stop.  There won’t be anyone there who knows how to make me stop.  It feels a little lonely really.

Except – well, I’ll get to lie in a bed, and sleep, and I imagine someone will bring me tea and toast every once in a while.  I have a friend who is going to pick me up and bring me home. My sister is coming to stay the night and help me with the children and be entertaining. Another friend has offered to come and help with the children next week if I need it. And I can lie on the sofa on Sunday and Monday and watch as much West Wing as I can fit in.  I am overwhelmed with love and support. It is strange going from having someone who I can completely rely on to look after me to being alone but surrounded by friends – it’s like jumping out of a plane with a parachute you’ve never had to rely on before, and discovering it works – beautifully.

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One response to “My post-operative parachute

  1. Myn says:

    Ouch! Hugs

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