Part 3: Back Surgery, Day 3 of recuperating - My surgeon calls to check in

I'm keeping a low profile during this important period of recuperation.

As soon as I hit the sack, I'm fast asleep, thanks to Codeine w/Tylenol and Phenergan.

But I also keep the phone near me, just in case someone from Orthopedic Care calls me.

That's what happened this morning around 11 a.m.

It was my surgeon, Dr Guy Lee, checking up on me.

Any surgery today? I asked him.

No, he said, just sitting around the office.

Lots of noise in the background.

He asked about the pain.

Well, the pain's terrible.....not the sciatica, but from the incision....but the pain medicine is pretty much doing the trick.

That's good, he said.

In fact, here's a paragraf from one of their post-op booklets:

Patients with spine problems occasionally require a great deal of narcotic medication to suppress pain. These narcotic medications (Percoset, Codeine, Demerol, Valium, etc.) are addicting.

While my doctors will provide medication to suppress the pain associated with surgery, after three months postoperatively, they will limit the use of these medications.

I've never been on meds like these before, and told that to Dr Lee.

It's like I'm tripping, I told him.

Like in the sixties?

Yup. It's kinda neat, I said.

We bid each other goodbye, he said to say hello to my daughter and my son, and then I decided to get outa bed.

This is the hardest thing. I slide off the end of my long bed, making the same noises I did - instinctively - as when I took Childbirth Education Classes in Texas and had natural childbirth.

Okay, I just 'tripped' right now.

I'm really exhausted and will go to bed when I finish this post. So I close my eyes and have a nice conversation with Sarah, in her red top. She's sitting in the corner of the living room couch directly across from me.

When I opened my eyes from this 30-second dream, I was surprised to see she wasn't there.

In fact, Scott and I drove her to the train station for the 6:59 into Reading Terminal, hoping to arrive at Penn Station, NYC, around midnite.

The meds put me into a vile mood. I snap at people. I find fault with them. It's kinda like the irritability/angry stage I used to get hypomanic when I had bipolar disorder.

Don't you think I should stop complaining now and write about something neat?

Let's see what photos I took today.

I think the operative word is "overexposed" --

OMG, I said to myself after waking up from my hallucinatory dreams. Why is someone on my lawn with a ladder?

I called Sarah over. She was working on her laptop in the kitchen, having done an interview with a famous retired jogger.

Mike, who lives two doors down, was flying his electric helicopter w/his sons Lucas, 15 mos, and Jacob, 4, when the darn thing got caught in my tree.

How long does it take for the Boys on Cowbell to rescue a helicopter from a tree?

Half an hour.

Scott got his tree pruner from the garage and attached it to the original stick Mike had unsuccessfully used, with duct tape.

Oh, yes, murmur, murmur, murmured the boys about the excellent choice of duct tape.

Here we are, admiring the helicopter that once lay in the branches of my tree.

Recipe for success: Neighbors pitching in to rescue small battery-operated helicopter, manufactured by Blade.

How come I hear the voice-over by Rod Sterling?