September 14, 2012 by rebelwithalabelmaker
Recovery is humming along over here. I am not in pain–I'd describe it as "tenderness" and by that I actually mean tenderness and not like when they say childbirth involves "discomfort" which is code for "being ripped in half". I am shocked by how tired I am, though, needing many naps. I was warned that this would happen, but figured I would overcome it through force of will. I am a very willful person. Until around eleven thirty, turns out.
The only time it hurts is if I stand still. Walking is fine, sitting and lying down are fine, but standing is very painful so I've learned to kind of sway back and forth which is much more comfortable but makes me look crazy. I'm okay with that.
Absolutely the worst part of being knocked out, having your legs cut open, and someone ripping out a bunch of your veins, is the stupid socks you have to wear. They are one hundred and ten dollars, and I have a personal policy of not owning anything that costs more than one hundred dollars unless it comes with an Apple logo on it. You have to put them on using only friction and these stupid gloves, and the lady had me do it in the store and she was all "no tugging, no bunching–no pinching the socks!!". I was about ready to start pinching her. It takes me twenty minutes to put the stupid things on, and by then I am ready for a nap, but I can't nap with them on because I'm scared of them getting bed buggy, because I'm only allowed to wash them in cold water and hang them to dry.
"You don't understand," I protested to Overzealous Sock Lady, "Everything must go in the dryer. It's the only way to kill the bed bug eggs." (I was swaying back and forth as I said this, of course.)
She seemed a bit creeped out, but I reassured her that they aren't our bed bugs–they were here when I moved in. I bought her stupid socks because the demanding surgeon said I had to, and went home muttering "Everything must go in the dryer" fanatically as I walked.
We are nearing the end, we hope, of the Bed Bug Battle–no bites for almost a week. Starting on Thursday, we may get to ease up on the every-48-hour laundry-and-vacuuming-schedule, which would be very nice. I have to tell you I cannot wait to go back to living in squalor. The cleanliness suits me even less than the hundred and ten dollar socks. Which, by the way, also itch. Which causes me to get paranoid that my careful guarding of them hasn't worked and some bug got in there and laid eggs.
So I spend a lot of time following Gary around declaring "There are bugs on me! My socks are full of bugs!" and swaying back and forth. Until 11:30, when I fall asleep drooling on the keyboard of my laptop, muttering "force of will… stuff to do… must stay awake… must guard stupid socks…" and Gary removes the computer so I don't drool on the keys, since the laptop cost more than all of my socks put together which these days is saying something.