There is 8" of new snow on the ground outside the window in front of me and a frigid draft wafting in from the window to my side. I remain perched (or draped) on the couch, for Day 4 of my "stabilizing sojourn." I am finally starting to feel the affects of the anti-clotting meds - my body must be re-absorbing some of the clots, as the pain is now only significant if I sit (at all) or stand for a long period of time.
My stomach bears a tiny (or not so tiny - my first attempts at playing nurse weren't as successful in the bruise-reducing department) souvenier of each injection - eight thus far (though it feels like it has been double that many).
I am back to work - in my pajamas, wrapped in a lambswool blanket and fuzzy socks. There are half a dozen urgent projects, but any creativity or know-how has leaked out of my brain over the last few days. Sitting in church for 5 minutes yesterday (I lasted an hour - but only because it's rude to leave in the middle of the service) was enough to convince me that sitting at my desk for 8 hours today would be a nightmare gone bad. The subsequent snowstorm only reinforced that. Right now there are three things that could happen on the "terrible" scale - a) a car accident b) a fall down the stairs (thank heaven I got that out of the way two months ago) and c) something I'd rather not mention at the moment, because I'm thinking positive thoughts. Reducing the clotting factor helps the clots, but doesn't exactly help in case one is involved in any kind of bodily trauma.
Regardless, driving in newly fallen snow after a 2 1/2 week snow hiatus is just tempting fate, and I've already rolled those dice once in the last week.
So here I am, trying to manage a multi-sheet spreadsheet, write promotional copy and manage the world's slowest Internet project from my perch on the couch. Himself is home today - ostensibly he's watching Woodstock, but she has thus preferred her nearly-nonmobile audience of One on the living room couch, just adding to my inability to string two coherent thoughts together.
It's funny how quickly one's perspective changes when semi-confined. Suddenly, the veggies in commercially prepared pasta sauce count as real veggies. Woodstock having two food groups in a meal means it's well-balanced. Eating half a sandwich counts as a meal. And progress is measured in pain decibles rather than things accomplished.
It's 9:07 on Monday morning, and I'm already ready for the weekend.
1 comment:
Your work attire sounds really comfy, at least :) I can't believe you have to do so many injections! And, I'm glad that it's the weekend for you now (since I'm commenting on FRIDAY...lame, I know). I hope you feel better!
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