So, I had my second post-op appointment with the surgeon yesterday. I was scheduled at 3:30, and we got there right on time. We only had to wait a few minutes, and then we were back in the exam room. The nurse helped me undo my binder (and then pointed out that it was on … Continue reading “6/5/08”

So, I had my second post-op appointment with the surgeon yesterday. I was scheduled at 3:30, and we got there right on time. We only had to wait a few minutes, and then we were back in the exam room. The nurse helped me undo my binder (and then pointed out that it was on UPSIDE DOWN, how embarrassing. I blamed Fred, of course.) and took the dressing off my incision line and proclaimed that everything looked good. The surgeon came in, looked me over, gave the nurse the okay to remove the drain, and told me to come back in three weeks.

The nurse removed the stitches from my bellybutton (and I was glad that it was numb, because she apparently did a lot of digging), removed a couple of steri-strips from the back part of my incision, and then prepared to remove the drain. When Fred had his drain removed at two weeks, it apparently hurt. A lot. A LOT. Which he told me repeatedly, both at the time, in the years since, and most often after I had my own surgery.

So when the nurse clipped the stitches holding the drain in place and I knew she was going to be removing the drain, I immediately exuded about a gallon of fear sweat. I told the nurse that I was scared BECAUSE OF FRED AND HIS BIG MOUTH and she gave him a dirty look (he told me later it was a dead ringer for the Mister Boogers “het” look) and then she told me to take a deep breath and she pulled. I could feel the part inside as she pulled it out, but just faintly, and it didn’t hurt at all, and then we discussed how Fred was a big baby and men experience pain (LIKE BIG BABIES) differently than women do.

She told me I had to wear the binder for another three weeks, then I can move on to a panty/ girdle thing. I should wear the girdle as tight as I possibly could, and wear it all the time. Once there’s no more drainage, I can wear a t-shirt or tank top under the binder to prevent irritation. I think I’m going to hit Target or Wal-Mart in the next few days and see if they still carry those very thin tank tops in the women’s lingerie section. As hot as it’s been, I’d like to wear as little as possible.

I got the okay to drive, too, by the way, and will be heading out here in a little while to check the PO Box and to stop and pick up a few (light) groceries.

When we got home, I immediately stripped down and went upstairs to take a shower, shave my legs, and shave my armpits. HEAVEN. I stayed in the shower for a long, long time, then dried off. Fred put some light gauze over my incision line (there’s still a bit of drainage in spots) and then cinched me into my binder.

The binder, by the way, looks like this.

So, Fred took a picture of me when we got home. Keep in mind that I’m still holding on to about 10 pounds of fluid, so I’m swollen. Also, I’m wearing my binder, which is not a thin garment. He took the picture and when I looked at it, I said “I feel a lot smaller than I look in that picture!” Ah, well. Story of my life!

By the way, since I had this surgery, I am utterly amazed at how often my bowel functioning is asked after. It seems like every time I turn around, someone’s asking. I’m surprised the mail lady hasn’t demanded a color-and-consistency report. For the record, they’re working just fine and didn’t give me one moment of trouble. I know that hydrocodone constipates some people, but apparently it’s not an issue with me, thank god.



Every now and again over at Flickr, someone points out the fact that one of the kittens has an orange leg and it kind of looks like they’re cobbled together from spare parts. Actually, each of the three girl kittens has an orange leg, which I think is kind of neat. Inara’s the one with the super orange leg that looks like it came directly from an orange tabby, but Kaylee and Zoe have their orange mojo going, too.

We’ve decided, this weekend, that we’re going to set Kaylee Kara up in the guest bedroom during the day on Saturday and Sunday. This’ll give her a little time away from those bratty kittens, I can see how the kittens act when she’s not around, we can introduce the kittens to some of the adults in the house (particularly Tommy) and see their reaction to strange cats, and hopefully I can see if Zoe is eating solid food, just not in front of me, or if she’s still exclusively nursing. I know they’re all still nursing, but I think it’s more a comfort thing for them than an actual need for nutrition. Like I’ve said, I’ve seen all the kittens except Zoe eat solid food.

The funny thing is that when I go into the room with a plate of canned food, Kara and River belly up to the plate. The three girl kittens take turns walking up to the plate, sniffing at the food, and then every one of them scratches at the floor around the plate to try to cover it up. Apparently that kind of canned cat food just isn’t their thing. It’s so cute I want to squeeze them to death.

“I just want to apologize to Josh’s mom, and Mike’s mom, and my mom. I am so sorry!”

“Because it was my fault. I was the one who brought them here. I was the one that said “keep going south.”

“I was the one who said that we were not lost. It was my fault, because it was my project.”

“I am so scared! I don’t know what’s out there. We are going to die out here! I am so scared!

(More kitten pics over at Flickr.)



I don’t know where Miss Momma was hanging out before she came racing through the house asking to be let outside, but there was apparently a lot of dust and cobwebs there. Which doesn’t really narrow it down any.



2007: Y’all don’t fuck with Sheriff Twitty, now.
2006: I wanted to turn around and yell “NO I DIDN’T HEAR ANYTHING! Get out of my ROOOOOOOOM!”, like a grouchy teenager.
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry.
2003: Fred always says “You blame EVERYTHING on the fact that you’re about to have your period, having your period, or just HAD your period!” Well, duh.
2002: 26 things you may not know about me.
2001: No entry.
2000: Why, oh why, does writing snotty letters amuse me so?