Its me again, Margaret

Well I dropped off the face of the planet, and for good reason might I add. Boy this has been one tough year for this single lady. Some of you know (and you probably do if you're reading this) that I had a minor surgery last December. Took my Christmas break away from me with recovery but I was so grateful my family was able to come to Vegas to hang with me while I was... wounded.

The expected healing time was the end of January.

February rolls by...still not healed.

March rolls by... still not healed.

April! rolls by... Still. Not. Healed.

Now, Yes, I know it took me an above average time to really think, "Gosh, I really think something is wrong". And yes, I did go to the Dr. a couple times wondering how in the world I still had an open wound, and he would just tell me "these things are a pain in the butt... just give it time".

May rolls by... STILL. NOT. HEALED.

My doctor tells me to go jump in my pool, that the chlorine will maybe heal it....

Now, I'm no doctor. I did not suffer through medical school, and while I am very Grey's Anatomy savvy, I try not to brag about my skills to doctors... BUT REALLY?

So I ditch that dough-head and go to a wound care clinic. Who knew they existed? They do. Add that to the list of things you learn as a grown up.

That clinic very kindly referred me to my new and wonderful Doctor who promised to heal me, BUT... we need another surgery.

June rolls by... Waiting for surgery.

FINALLY... after getting rough with some people (I mean seriously, it takes a month to schedule a surgery? My mama didn't raise no fool...) I got scheduled for Surgery on July 6th.

"This is an outpatient procedure" they said. "You'll be fine" they said. "You'll be home by noon" they promised.

5. FIVE. Not two, not three, FIVE days later I am released from the hospital. I can barely walk, stand up straight, or keep down food.

THANKS GOODNESS my Mom drives down. Apparently my Dad had to yell at her to get her to drive 15 hours, and I am soooooo soooo sooooo sooooo grateful she did. I am also grateful we are both in the teaching profession because my "couple weeks" of recovery turned into a 5 week recovery with a wound vac. Which is painful. Its exactly what it sounds like but you don't want to believe. A machine that is constantly vacuuming your wound.

Everything hurt. Laying down, sitting up, blinking. It all hurt. For 2 weeks I was on constant Hydrocodene every 4 hours. Which I absolutely HATED. It turns out that I am so much of a control freak that I hate losing control of my capacities. And in this case, my brain. Those pills make my head feel heavy, foggy, blurry and I cant THINK. The fear of me turning into a drug addict was erased when everyone realized I wasn't taking them even though I was in pain, because I hated the way my head felt. (Mom took care of that.) They did wonders for the pain, but still. Woof. I seriously do not understand how people become addicted to those things. No judgement, we all have our vices, but I do not understand why you would want that feeling. (Now the Xanax they prescribed, I will be holding on to... just kidding...)

Anyway. Here's my excuse for completely removing myself from society, friendships, and church.

But! On Tuesday Vaccy (the wound vac) comes off! I wanted it to be last week, the doctor wanted one more week. I then tried Saturday. So it comes off this Tuesday. He DOES have a real degree, not just a Grey's Anatomy degree. So he wins. Promptly following that appointment my wonderful Mom and I are driving up to Oregon for 5 days of summer break.

5 Weeks
One Wound Vac
56 Hydrocodenes
4,897 games of Gin Rummy
47 games of War
7 seasons of Gilmore Girls
6 Seasons of White Collar
3 Seasons of Lie to Me
and 4 Seasons of Private Practice (Netflix keeps asking us if we are still watching... Yes Netflix. Quit judging us)...

We are heading home to Brookings on Tuesday.

And then... Back to work. Ok fine, I'm a little excited. :)