I was finally able to remove the dressing today. Now I have a temporary (and less clunky) style of bandage on it, instead of the huge wrap that I was sent home in. This also meant that I could finally take a shower, which was great for my I-have-to-take-a-shower-within-24-hours-of-my-last-shower-or-I-start-losing-my-mind issues. Forty-eight hours without one (actually, almost 72 hours because I hadn’t taken one since Monday) was like Hell for me.
I can’t get it wet or go sans all bandages until next Friday, when I will be getting my stitches out. I hate having to put a glove on before I take a shower. I forgot how much it sucked to have to tape stuff on to keep part of a limb dry.12 But it’s nice to be able to get in the shower and just relax a little bit. This first time, I only spent about 5-10 minutes in there. Hopefully, as I get more used to the glove, I will be able to spend a little more time in the shower.
I was planning on going to therapy today, since it was Thursday and that’s Seeking Safety group day. I didn’t, though. I hadn’t gotten any sleep between waking up at the Surgery Center on Tuesday afternoon and Wednesday during The Tonight Show. I didn’t take any pain medicine at all last night because the Tramadol was making me feel all wired, so I thought that if I just stuck with Flexeril that I might be able to get some sleep in. It worked, except when I would wake up and feel like someone was ripping my thumb from the joint. I described it that way to my mom and she said, “Well, he pretty much did.”
Well, when I officially woke up, I realized I was in way too much pain to do much of anything. I definitely was in too much pain to go to therapy, so I called the Mental Health Center to let Mary know that I wouldn’t be showing up. This is the second week in a row that I’ve cancelled on her, but the fact that I’ve actually been able to make the calls twice is pretty major for me.
I felt bad about cancelling, but I really wasn’t up to it. As hyper as the medicine may make me, it also makes everything a little fuzzy. I think it may also make me a little more confrontational than I usually am, so I probably shouldn’t be around a group of women who have PTSD and histories of being in relationships with rather confrontational people. Bad stuff might go down. Also, the whole I didn’t feel well enough to be there is a good enough reason to not show up. I feel bad about missing it, though, because I really was planning on going.
I’m remembering just how dependent on my left-hand I tend to be. I already knew I was more left-hand dominant than right before this surgery, but I had forgotten how awkward doing things with my right hand can be. I remember when I used to hurt my hands when I was younger. Back then, if it was my left hand that was hurt, the teachers would always say things like, “Well, at least you can still write.” They didn’t understand that writing is one of the few things that my right hand does better than my left. They didn’t get that sometimes using my left hand is more necessary than using my right one. It was always frustrating. It’s still frustrating, but now it is frustrating without the commentary from the
peanut gallery teachers.
After hearing about the (very young) grandson of my dad’s first cousin having Ehlers-Danlos and going through the subluxations, I started thinking about my own EDS issues. I started worrying that maybe the surgery wasn’t the best idea. I know that there can be issues with joint surgeries in EDS patients. I made sure to let the doctor and the surgery people know that I had EDS, but I don’t know that they took it into account or paid attention about it. I know I’m a dismissive patient and downplay things, so they might not have paid attention to that part of my history. It would be awful to go through all of this and have it basically be a waste of time. A very painful waste of time. I’m going to work at the recovery and I hope that it heals properly. If it doesn’t, then I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. It’s a reality I need to be aware of, but don’t need to obsess over because that obsession might prevent me from working on getting better.
I’m sorry if this is all wonky sounding. Like I mentioned, I’ve taken the pain meds and am a little buzzed from that. I just thought I would do a bit of an update.
I broke my right foot and wore a cast on it in 8th, 9th, and 11th grades, so I’ve done the waterproofing stuff before. ↩
I’ve also had stitches before in the index finger on my left hand from trying to open a bag with a serrated knife. All I succeeded in with that was almost cutting the tip of my finger off. ↩