Never take things for granted

How does one feel when a mere task of walking at a normal speed suddenly turns into the last leg of a full 21km marathon? Or standing in front of the cash deposit machine for an extra 10 seconds makes your insides feel like they are being ripped apart? If you are curious enough to find out, I might be able to let you in on the details. 

It's been exactly a week since my surgery and I feel much better compared to the first two days out of the operating room. But I still remember how cold it felt in there, and how badly I was shaking when I started regaining consciousness. The nurses must have been accustomed to half-awake patients who signal to them with a weak wave for an extra piece of blanket, and a low grunt of approval when they ask if you would like the heat on the heated blanket to be turned up higher. I don't miss the few pumps of morphine I allowed myself to have while I was still battling my way to full consciousness. But I can testify how powerful it is, and how painkillers do not impress me at all. Morphine is the way to go, baby!

It can get quite depressing if I place my focus on how much it hurts when I try to sleep on my sides, how hard it is to fall asleep when my body is dead straight, how much my stitches feel like bursting whenever I sneezed or coughed and how hormonal I've been as a result of my medication. But the good news is, I've started moving my thoughts into a more positive and optimistic space. It's nothing much but at least I'm trying. Now I hear a voice telling me, "at least you discovered it early, you didn't lose a limb, you're still here and full of opportunities to try" and yada yada.

One month of recuperation sounds just right. Not too long or short. I just hope my stitches get healed in time so they can withstand the impact of sitting hours through the traffic. Or else I might have to resort to driving a race car because that's the only angle I can get comfortable with. What's most challenging for me now is to get through to the day my Mr Bun comes home. It certainly isn't the best feeling in the world when my queen-sized bed transforms into a vast, vacant grassland whenever I sleep on it alone.

Here's to getting well and looking at the glass as half full.