And on that note, behold, week 2's recovery update starring me and my McJuggets...
Wednesday July 27th - Tuesday August 2nd (Week 2 Recovery)
My progress really took off this week. On Wednesday, I got the best night's sleep I'd had yet. Probably because I turned a corner in my healing process, or maybe because I broke down and took a leftover Vicodin of Ron's I found in the back of the medicine cabinet from 2010. (Oh, like you've never taken expired pain meds prescribed to somebody else...ok, yeah, don't do that.)
On the 28th I went to the doctor all by myself, feeling wonderful, wearing an actual bra, no chest vest, and minus the extra 7 lbs of puff. Normal is the name of the game today, folks. Normal.
The doctor walked into the room and very first thing said, "Still no hot tub."
It's okay, doc, he's not here.
While we're at it, still no baths, no sports bras, no golf, no stomach sleeping, no upper body anything, and still no picking up my 25 lb grandson, but am cleared to pick up my 13 lb granddaughter.
So now my heart is only half broken.
I could tell he's very satisfied with his work and happy with my recovery and I decided that he thinks I'm now his best un-medicated, un-vested, un-puffy, un-crazy, un-pain-in-his-ass, and most low-maintenance patient he's ever worked on, and I'm totally rockin' the normal vibe today...and then he said, "Now don't start picking the glue off your incisions, okay?"
Alright, so maybe not.
Then he upgraded me from 'do nothing' to permitting me to 'take walks'.
Take walks? Take walks?! I feel great, I'm starving, and I desperately need to run, dance, lift, plank, and squat 6 days a week so that I can eat enough junk 1 day a week to break even...and you tell me I'm allowed to take walks?!?
But then I decided that taking walks is awesome, because the look on his face indicated that my crazy might be showing.
Two days later, we went to Zoombezi Bay, the Columbus Zoo & Waterpark, with Ron's work. And, no, I did not ask the doctor if that was okay, because he'd already pegged me as a glue picking maniac, and the word waterpark sounds way worse than it actually was.
Unfortunately, due to the fact that all the stores have their back-to-school crap out, I wasn't able to find a new bathing suit top and my previous bikini top, that once housed my Saggy D's, was borderline unfit to manage the new Double D's. So avoiding eye contact, wearing a baggy tank top, hiding in our cabana draped with beach towels, and occasionally walking the lazy river while my 9 year old repeatedly asked, "How's the boobs holding up, mommy?" pretty much sums up my day at Boob-ezi-Bay...come on, it's like Jack Hanna handed me that one on a silver platter.
Unless something crazy(ier) happens, Friday should conclude my Tale Of 2 Titties, as I'll fill you in on Week 3 recovery and hold high hopes that the doctor will release me back to life as