Recovery Blues

Ten days since the arm surgery -- I'm resigned to float above the reality of life -- an out of body experience.  Emails continue to trickle in from work, but my team seems to be handling it all quite well.  Am I irrelevant?  Does atree falling in the woods make a sound if no one is around to hear it?  I'm feeling like that damn tree. 

After watching every minute of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade, I had to get off the couch or go bonkers. Despite John's commands to stay where I was and mend, I opted for getting off the couch to help with dinner preparations.  Result -- shoulder pain exploded on me last night despite having taken Advil and carefully wearing my sling all day and night.  This morning I popped a Percoset.  I was desperate.  It's time for another one!

I haven't been running around by any means.  I've tried to be a good patient.  In the past two days, I've read a mountain of magazines and newspapers.  I've blogged, sorted my four inch high in box, paid bills, talked with relatives and eaten my way through an abundance of tasty nibbles. I want to "getting moving" but I tire easily.  What happened to my Energizer Bunny?  I even napped after exhausting myself setting theThanksgiving Dinner table. 

What's the use in getting dressed when you can't go out, but that brings me to the simple tasks that bring me to tears. Ever tried to wash your right armpit with your right arm or hook your bra with one hand? The hair dryer is a banned appliance as it requires my left arm to rise up above my head.  My hair is early "mess". I can't lift my left arm to pull on a sweater or shirt.  I can only zip up a sweat shirt.  I can't wear my normal slacks or jeans- it takes two good arms to pull and zip them up. I've succumbed to sweat and yoga pants pull ups with elastic waists.  At least they are black and not the horrid pastel colors with matching sequend tops of those blue haired ladies standing in line at the 5:00 2 for 1 seating at restaurants.  Just thinking about them depresses me because I turned 66 on Monday.  I'm now beyond all the age categories - you know, the ones you have to check off on marketing surveys. I've become irrelevant to marketeers -- except, of course, to those hawking hearing aids, laxatives, adult diapers, scooters and denture gel.

Monday I go back to work, for which, I will be eternally grateful.  I'm ready to be back in the muck of the "reality of life".  I'll be easy to recognize.  I'll be the one with sling and sweats in heels.  Wish me luck.