So, yeah. I've been off the painkillers since Thursday afternoon. Had surgery on Tuesday; a week ago. I know, you're saying, "what's the use of a full bottle of Percocet if you're not gonna enjoy it? For at least a week or so?"
I am such a wuss.
However, it was great fun joining the JR and his brother for a few quaffs down at the local bar, meet up with a few local heroes and generally enjoy life under the influence. A mellow buzz, a happy time, and hey! I got to get out of the house and go maybe a mile down the road!!
Well, I may be forgiven for feeling a bit celebratory: Doc says I'm healing up well and he won't need to see me for a year.
Meanwhile, Doctor British, the poor naif fresh from a second residency (for his US license) in Denver, assures me that they've implemented a redundancy in the O.R. equipment in this pirate town's hospital, since my unfortunate experience last week. Seems somebody dropped the damn laproscopic vacuum box and never said a word. That's why I have an extra, unexpected scar along my lovely tummy.
Pre-op couldn't have been a more reassuring experience. Post-op I was dumped into a room and left to rot and scream for pain meds. Doc Brit forgot that, due to the unexpected incision into my abdomen, I might need some Demorol for the pain. He fixed that, but like Bill Whittle noted, you gotta wait for the pharmacy to issue the meds. Plus, Nurse Obama could've cared less for me or more for her manicure. Yeah, can't wait for government-guaranteed-job nurses to become the standard of excellence under ObamaCare.
So, the Pepper Dog is home now, and she's looking at me like, "how do YOU like it, beyatch?"
Not much. But my longer battle with pain is over. Gotta be glad about that. And about all of you sending good thoughts my way. Thanks again.
Now, back to misbehavin'. Just wait 'til you see the Obama quotes I've got for you!