TheBanyanTree: SI - Week 1.5

[Monique]

Took off the steri-strips myself. Just ripped the little suckers off
because I was told they would fall off after a few days and here it is,
a full week and a half later, and they were still there. Incision's
underneath there. It's kind of ridged (not like potato chips, that would
just be weird), and bruised, and not really the most attractive thing,
but at least that tape is off. I don't think it's quite time to start up
on the crunches though. I don't think I'm quite there yet. 
 
Walked the dog yesterday, all by myself. I couldn't help it. Around 7 pm
she started looking at me with that sad look on her face, the one that
means, "Hey! Pay attention! I want to go out now!" And since our guy
wouldn't be home for at least three more hours, I gave in. I decided it
was time to try walking the dog. I've been banned from walking her
because at almost 70 pounds, she could hurt me if she decided to take
off after something. I mean, it's just stitches holding me together
apparently. But eventually life would have to return to some semblance
of normality, so why not now? Anyway, I already felt terrible and icky.
Since I'd spent most of the day wandering around in a t-shirt and men's
boxers (well, I'm recuperating, I guess I can wear whatever I want), I
started looking for shorts to wear. Big, baggy shorts. I couldn't find
them. Last time I saw my big baggy shorts Andrew was wearing them. I
don't know where he put them. So I put on a pair of his, which are far
bigger and baggier than mine. It's the look. I had to fasten the belt
rather tightly or they'd just fall right off. During this preparation,
Dog kept looking at me, unsure if this was good for her or not. Were we
going out? Or was I just toying with her? She refrained from wagging her
tail off with excitement until I was fully dressed and heading for her
leash . . . I told her she had to behave herself for this, our inaugural
trial walk. She just looked at me and kept wagging her tail. 
 
And we walked around the building. I'd like to report on the excitement
of it all, but there's not much to tell. When we got all the way around
I was tired and feeling the pain, but decided we could do one more
round. So we did. Still not much to tell. Dog would tug on the leash now
and again, like she does, and I'd pull her back and tell her no, and
she'd give up and cooperate. I didn't want to use two hands with her
because my right hand was guarding my incision area. I know - it's not
like I can hold it together by keeping my hand against it, but it feels
better that way. 
 
So we walked. It was successful, and I felt like I'd accomplished
something. This is how sad my life has become. Walking the dog is now a
major achievement. 
 
My sister called me yesterday too. The California sister. She was going
to call me over the weekend, but of course she didn't. This is not
unexpected. Patty rarely follows up with what she says she's going to
do, a fact I just overlook. I can't remember the last time she called me
- we usually just email. I saw her a few weeks ago during the Assault on
Disneyland anyway. But when my phone rang I looked at it and I saw it
was her, so when I answered it I said, "What are you doing calling me?" 
 
I thought it was a good question. She laughed. She's trying to be a
better sister. Everyone's trying to be a better sister/brother these
days. We talked while she walked on her break. I counseled her on her
dog problems, and she was reassured that I'm fine. We talked about Dad
and his inability to use his own gift cards. 
 
Rehabilitation is rather boring. I mean, I just sit here. Or lay here. I
read. I watch tivo. I play with client's books on the pretext that I'm
getting back up to speed on work slowly. I do jigsaw puzzles online. I
nap. I curse my slowly healing body for not being in better shape.
Yesterday I did the dishes. I plan my next project. I plan my last
project. I rearrange the blankets. I talk to the dog. I'm doing what I'm
told, which is resting and letting myself heal. How boring is that?
 
Exactly. It is very boring. 
 
M