Thought it was over didn’t ya? DIDN’T YA?!?! NO. SUCH. LUCK.
Since I just sucked you into the drama that was all things Black Dog Surgery Shenanigans (here, here, and oh yes, here!), I figured I would continue to regale you with the continuing adventures of Black Dog Recovery Shenanigans. You just peed your pants a little, didn’t ya? DIDN’T YA?!?!?
We last left off with me wondering if I had said anything embarrassing while under the influence of the Happy Juice. At this point however, I really don’t care any more. Let’s just hope a) I didn’t, and 2. when I return for Surgery Shenanigans Part 2, cutie patootie is not present. Just imagine what wondrous, witty, whacked out things could possibly emanate from my Happy Juice-induced yap a second time. E-GADS.
The rest of surgery day was spent back at the humble abode, stoned out in leftover happy juice/painkiller fog. In other words, I have no idea what happened. Other than I’m pretty sure I continued to utter spontaneous nonsensical utterances of nonsense. Oh wait, that’s what I do every day. Hmmmmm……
The next couple of days are pretty foggy. Which is actually pretty funny as I actually did some work from home those days. However, as I haven’t gotten any irate “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING YOU SIMPLE-MINDED, INTELLIGENCE-CHALLENGED IDIOT?!” emails, (or at least more than usual), I guess I managed to get something accomplished. Random thought: perhaps I should include Vicodin as part of my daily decision-making process. Seems to work AND makes things more interesting. Then again, MAY possibly not be looked at in a positive light by one’s supervisors. Then again, I have a pretty good supervisor. Who has kids. Two of them. She may be grateful.
Two days after surgery, I got to drag my painkiller-infused brain back to the surgeon. And finally got to see what was going on under this.
Whatcha got under there Black Dog? A Yeti???
Sadly, it was nothing more exciting than a couple of steri-strips and a whole lot of swelling.
Scintillating, isn’t it?
As I gimped my way into the weekend on crutches and nothing stronger than ibuprofen – which, for the record, doesn’t work worth a dog poop – I was anxious to see how long it was going to take for some real healing to begin. (SPOILER ALERT: STILL waiting. Hang on. Yup. Still waiting. Oh, wait, maybe….nope. Still waiting.)
Up next: Black Dog Goes Postal and Threatens To Take Poor, Unsuspecting Victim Out With Crutches. Intriguing, isn’t it?
Enjoy the ride.
Ever had a moment when you thought your impatience would take someone out at the knees? (Hehehe, get it? The knees?) I digress. Again. What do you do to deal with something that is testing your patience? Take a deep breath? Throw something? Temper tantrum??