I have to be honest, I didn’t know what to expect after my Op and was quite pleased about how well I felt and how much I was able to do.
Lifting is out of course, as is sweeping through the boat, but I can manage to make a cup of tea, and drinking it is actually good exercise as I’m right handed.
Today, I walked round the Avenue with Maggie rather than just up to the dog walk or gate, so I’m trying to get back into the swing of walking.
Preparing a meal is a bit touch and go though, so Hubby is in charge of the kitchen.
He admits to being surprised at how active I’ve been after surgery, but now everything seems to be catching up with me and I’m feeling exhausted by midday! The bruises are all coming out and it’s painful to wear my watch as it presses against where they put the tube in my wrist after failing to find entry through the back of my hand, twice (not their fault).
I went back to bed yesterday afternoon and slept for three hours, even though I’d had a good night’s sleep. I had another last night, but again felt tired by early afternoon, and occasionally experience an unpleasant pinching sensation. The exercises help, so I’m doing those at least three times a day, and the dressing is due to come off on Monday so I can ask the Cancer Support Nurse some questions then if necessary. My follow up with the Consultant is on the 16th.
Hubby reckons I’m about 48 hours behind everyone else with the after effects from a full anaesthetic. Oh well, I never said I was normal.
The best way to ‘build me up’ is feed me, and I can truly say my appetite is not affected.
I was really disappointed not to be able to have a chinese takeout Monday evening when I came home (I’d been looking forward to crispy seaweed, sweet and sour chicken, rice and prawn crackers for hours), but the pizza was good, even if it was taboo.
Sugar fixes come in various shapes and sizes (large would be nice) but I am trying to be sensible and not succumb too much in that direction. OK, a little treat every day this week.
I was weighed and measured on Monday and it looked like I’d lost a couple of pounds from SW’s last weigh in. Mind you, I hadn’t eaten or drunk anything since midnight, so that was probably why.
Feeling tired suggests a lack of iron and so, rather than chew on rusty nails or golf clubs, we resorted to plan B, reliving memories of that very first meal Hubby cooked for me over twenty seven years ago.
Liver and bacon.
No cabbage or mash this time, instead a small bag of sprouts and boiled potatoes done in the pressure cooker. We’ll be fragrant later.
Gravy to die for, onions, and mushrooms to boot.
What else could I do but clean my plate? Maggie was not impressed. Sorry girl. ❤