Day 1 Post-Op aka I Hate That Fucking Couch

Three years ago my DH underwent extensive major surgery.  Brilliantly I ordered two gloriously ginormous new couches designed for a lengthy recovering in front of the big screen TV.  He never used them.  Instead, sealed himself into the master bedroom with duct tape, leaving me to recoup on the grand sofa.

Here my ass was planted for 24 hours, not counting two shuffles around the dining room table on the arm of my DH.  Here I was safe from the agony of movement and the faint wavering of the floor under my unstable feet.  Here I grew to hate the cushion beneath me and the pillows propping up my sore back and cricked neck and the ottoman that slid out from my feet just when I thought I might be getting comfortable.

Saturday the 14th was a better day all around though.  My dear BFF kept my mind off the discomfort with silly texts and sweet encouragement.  My dear Mummy and Daddy delivered nuggets and cupcakes and a soft stuffed puppy.  My DH kept track of my drugs and my water intake, rotating crappy DVDs on the TV all day.

The ring of fire under my ace wraps slowly abated and deferred to the spasms in my now really pissed off neck.  I took more Percocet.  And promptly wished I had not: the back of my skull wanted to explode under the pulsating pressure of too many opiates in a brain not accustomed to pain medication.  For hours my head throbbed, my neck shrieked, and my tortured boobs weren't even on the map.

At 2am I woke DH up in tears, I simply could not sit, lay, recline, exist, in that couch nest a moment longer.  And I would chew glass before I would take another Percocet.

The tempurpedic wedge cradle was put into effect in our bed, DH slept while I tried not to vomit.  Once the Percocet was mostly out of my system I was able to rest for short stretches through the dark morning hours, shopping on my iPhone more than sleeping.  The wedges were little better than the couch, forcing my neck into an unnatural position and leaving my poor crushed L3 & L2 to collapse in the void between.  I tried every pillow possible: the tempurpedic contour, a neck collar, a rolled up towel, then just nothing.  My thoracic spine throbbed with the injustice of it all, no relief in sight.