The morning of surgery, I felt this rancid worry in my stomach that I would be that .00001% of people who die from shoulder surgery. I had a nurse that I felt like punching in the throat when she gave me courtesy laugh and treated me like a 1st grader that wasn't listening to instructions. I was kind however because my concern for my life was greater than the urge to inflict pain on her. After coming out of surgery however..I guess they gave me truth serum because I proceeded to tell Rich and full volume only feet from her that I didn't like her cause she was fake and rude.
Well...I guess I have never been one to hold back..Anyway this last week my mom came up to help me and it was just what the Dr. ordered..there is nothing like your mom when you feel awful and just cry when someone even looks at you wrong (freaking percocets).
I have been able to get around pretty well and work with my left hand better than expected. I have been high as a kite with all the meds and that makes having a normal conversation with me superb.
I have turned into Susie Homemaker and am cooking like the end of the world is next week. I have three more weeks at home and at this rate, I'll be cooking for an army at the end of it.
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