Hit by a truck

Yesterday I started to feel like I'd been hit by a truck, and I still do. One of those Stephen King horror-movie semis--towering, shiny and silver.

I called the doctor in the evening to see if it was okay to take my Phenergan (generic name: promethazine) for nausea, and he said it was. He asked me if I was having a lot of pain, and I said yes. It's the incision sites and probably what's immediately inside them, because the right side is okay. Anytime I have to roll over or sit up or bend/sit down...ouch. Maybe I really do have a core after all, because that vicinity is what hurts. If I didn't have the oddly thick abdominal wall, I'm sure I would have been fine.

The first 24 hours or so that I was home, I could just drink an 11-oz. protein shake in a sitting and not think twice about it, which worried me because I thought it was too much. Now I can only drink half or 2/3 of something that size and drink the rest later.

Other than one occurrence of food smelling good--Mr. Salted had a chicken pot pie last night that smelled like heaven--I haven't even thought about wanting any. When you feel like this and you're nauseated to boot, nothing sounds delicious.

People keep wanting to make plans with me for the next few weeks, but I don't know how I'm going to feel. With my "core" this sore, I don't even know if it would be safe for me to drive--not to mention that I'm on liquid Demerol with a liquid Valium chaser. Without warning, at times I have to just stop and breathe deeply and clutch my ribs. I may even try to find a driver for my follow-up surgical appointment, because Mr. Salted has to go back to work.