DeadpanAnn (old blogger version)

This first paragraph might gross you out if you're the easily grossed out kind. Remember two weeks ago when that madman sliced a hole in my stomach and yanked a baby out of it? Remember that? Well that hole is giving me some trouble. I had my 2 week follow up appointment this past Thursday, and he said that there was a nasty red spot in the middle of it, but just to leave it alone. Then yesterday I noticed that the incision had bled a little, which it AIN'T supposed to be doing at this point. Then today the left side of it started aching, and I made Tim look at it really closely since I can't really get a close look myself, and he said it looked like it had come open-- or maybe it was just inflamed-- he didn't know what was going on, but he said it didn't look good. Then a few hours after Tim's inspection of the left side, the right side started aching. I haven't made him inspect it yet. I'm fairly certain something awful is going on down there. I don't have a fever, but I'm sick to my stomach, maybe just because the thought of having an infected incision in my gut is kinda, well, gut wrenching.

It's been over a week since I've taken any pain medication, but I'm seriously considering popping a couple of pills right now.

Speaking of pain medication, if you ever have major surgery and the doctor tries to send you home with Tylox, insist on something else. They gave me Percocet in the hospital, and that stuff kicked ass. It not only made me not hurt-- it made me feel really good, like I could do anything I wanted. Like I hadn't even had surgery. That feeling usually only lasted for about an hour after taking it, and then I paid the price for moving around too much, but still-- what a great hour. When I was discharged, they took away my sweet, sweet Percocet, and replaced it with Tylox. Tylox takes the edge off-- KINDA-- and that's all I can say for it. I took it for about 4 days after getting home, but after that I swore it off. I knew that Charlie had to be getting a certain amount of it through breastmilk, and it just wasn't worth exposing him to it when it wasn't really helping me anyway.

Pookie seems to be adjusting to Charlie's arrival, finally. The day we brought him home, we put him in the bassinet in the living room. Pookie jumped up onto the coffee table, stood on his hind legs, and peered over into the bassinet. About that time, Charlie started to cry. Pookie threw his ears back, tucked his tail, and ran. We didn't see him for three days. He finally got hungry enough to forgive us, but he was only coming inside to eat. Then a few days ago, while Charlie was asleep in the nursery, Pookie came and curled up in my lap. I guess I'm forgiven. Maybe he'll make nice with Charlie when he gets a little bit bigger. I've heard that some cats run away when a baby arrives in the home. At least Pookie hasn't hit the road yet.