Seriously though, I didn't know that was a side effect of plastics, but it's funny as hell.
I didn't want to leave the grape-fruited ball man in the recliner last night, but at some point I gave in and went to bed. I woke up to find him taking his bandages off and asking me to help him take a shower.
"Bob, it's 4am, can it wait?"
"GO! Back to your chair! Now."
Oh, yeah. I suppose when you sleep most of the day, showering at 4am seems normal.
Let it be known, Beth Will NEVER Be A Nurse. Props to all the caring medical professionals out there, I ain't gon do it. I have no tolerance for any sort of whining. I am compassionate and I do care - but - when it comes to recovery from this kind of situation, You Asked For It. You wanted this. You wanted this pain. Hell, you PAID CASH FOR THIS PAIN. You like the pain. Rawr.
(Yes, I realize that in 31 days I will be in the same predicament, probably quivering in the corner, because I don't like pain medication. But, imagine the pain-med blogging I could do! It would look a little like this: "Hiyagang i hadpalstic suuuuuurghery yestahdaey an Im feelin okay Im feelinng goooooooooood but its huuuuurts." Although, sometimes I see postings that look like that on a good day, including mine, because I never edit, spellcheck or re-read what I write. :x )
Bob, back to your chair. (He is, his mom is babysitting him today - because I have to work and make dem dollahs, I've made a big dent in my necessary plastics cash - and I hope to scrape up at least part of the rest. I can do it, damn it.)
Seriously though, I didn't know that was a side effect of plastics, but it's funny as hell.
I didn't want to leave the grape-fruited ball man in the recliner last night, but at some point I gave in and went to bed. I woke up to find him taking his bandages off and asking me to help him take a shower.
Oh, yeah. I suppose when you sleep most of the day, showering at 4am seems normal.
Let it be known, Beth Will NEVER Be A Nurse. Props to all the caring medical professionals out there, I ain't gon do it. I have no tolerance for any sort of whining. I am compassionate and I do care - but - when it comes to recovery from this kind of situation, You Asked For It. You wanted this. You wanted this pain. Hell, you PAID CASH FOR THIS PAIN. You like the pain. Rawr.
(Yes, I realize that in 31 days I will be in the same predicament, probably quivering in the corner, because I don't like pain medication. But, imagine the pain-med blogging I could do! It would look a little like this: "Hiyagang i hadpalstic suuuuuurghery yestahdaey an Im feelin okay Im feelinng goooooooooood but its huuuuurts." Although, sometimes I see postings that look like that on a good day, including mine, because I never edit, spellcheck or re-read what I write. :x )
Bob, back to your chair. (He is, his mom is babysitting him today - because I have to work and make dem dollahs, I've made a big dent in my necessary plastics cash - and I hope to scrape up at least part of the rest. I can do it, damn it.)
