I can hardly remember the last 48 hours. Last night, I decided to stop taking the pain pills, because I was in a narcotic haze and feeling all kind of crazy. I think I freaked my bf out a little last night. (Sorry, baby. <—see what I did there? haha)
I waited until Dave was here last night to finally take my shower (because last time I passed out in the shower all alone and it was bad news). So I took off the compression garment for the first time, and it was kind of crazy. I’m really swollen and bruised. It seems worse than last time, but I may not be remembering correctly (because drug haze). However, I know in a couple of weeks things are going to be so much better. It will all be worth it. I’m passing the time by looking at bikinis online. I can’t wait to try some on.
I’m ready to get the hell out of this bed, but I’m forcing myself to relax until tomorrow when my sweet boy gets dropped off. I can’t wait to see him. In the meantime, I will lounge about and watch Parenthood. I can think of worse things.
I have no appetite, so I have to force myself to eat. I want to have sex, and I can’t. I also want to run, but definitely can’t do that. This recovery shit is lame as fuck.