Originally Posted Sunday, November 9, 2014
I stayed in bed yesterday and read. It is the first time I've read a complete book in one day in a very long while. I finished in the middle of the night after having taken two Percocet and gone to sleep. I woke up itching. I have a mild allergy to the Percocet, I think. Once I woke, I was no longer sleepy, so I went to the kitchen and poured a glass of whiskey and finished the book. It was two a.m. I slept ten to fifteen minutes at a time for the rest of the night.
My roommate from college and his wife stopped by to see how I was doing yesterday. They brought me a gift basket full of cheeses and salamis and olives and pate and crackers and cookies, etc. They have both had this surgery but over ten years ago, and they were amazed I was up and walking/limping. I guess the procedure has gotten much better since they did it. But I had taken a couple Percocet before they came, and I had not been up and talking with anyone as of yet. I could feel the drugs in my brain. My equilibrium felt off. I was a bit nauseous. I am going to have to quit taking them today. I am constipated and not quite myself. I'll fight the pain with plain ibuprofen. I can't believe I'm saying that since I looked forward to being in a narcotic daze for awhile. I am not that man, I guess, or this is not the drug. Codeine. That is the thing that works for me. But that is not what I have.
I am such a loner that I didn't plan on hearing from people who wondered how I am. I always wonder if there is real concern or if it is simply what people do, but it has been startling. I don't consider myself social at all, but the numbers have been astounding to me.
Billions!
Of course not. But more than I could possibly anticipate.
I asked my mother over for dinner last night. She brought a couple steaks that I cooked up. When we sat down to dinner, though, I didn't feel so well and wasn't very hungry. We ate and she left right away. I needed to lie down. I wondered at that. I guess there is a trauma to it after all.
Having sat at the computer now to read the news and to write this blog and to drink my coffee, my knee feels swollen and throbbing again. Back to bed with the ice bags. I may be able to sleep for awhile now. It feels that way. I will sleep and read another day away. Tonight, I remove the big compression bandage. I am not good with visual injuries and am very likely to pass out. I may ask my mother to remove it and tell me what it looks like. I am allowed to shower which really seems weird to me, am allowed to get it wet. I want to consult with doctors about every hour about what I am feeling and if it is normal. I imagine that everything has gone wrong, of course, and that the pains I have are not the right ones and that if only they were here now they could fix whatever is wrong and prevent further injury. This is the difference between being a professional athlete (my doc is the team orthopedist for an NBA team) and a normal patient. The pro athlete would have a hotline. I will not see anyone until Friday, and then only a P.A. and a nurse. My paranoia is overwhelming, of course. I imagine blood clots, infections, damage from walking after surgery, etc.
Oh. . . I am a fun guy that way, a character from a Woody Allen film.
O.K. I am dizzy with it now and must go. Maybe I'll take some pictures of my swollen knee.
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