Monday, 8 p.m.ish:Hobble into the living room to watch TV with The Hubs after the Trips go to bed. Watch two episodes of The Hills (uh, HELLOOOO new obsession), and can I just say I think Spencer Pratt is the most condescending, mooching, douchey asshole on TV EVER? I am completely serious. Camille Grammar? Like Mother Teresa compared to Spencer Pratt. I know I am a few years behind in my obsession, but just let me have it now, okay?
Have some tea and my favorite new cookie:
Watch Cougar Town (FINALLY it's back on already)! I love that show. Hang with The Hubs on the couch until beddy bye time, which means drain time.
Drain the bags that are attached to the tummy, but which I thankfully do not have to see because of the HUGE crotchless binder I am wearing. Nothing says sexy time like a huge crotchless binder. The Hubs pretty much does the drain for me and records the amount on the sheet given to us by the doc's office. The Hubs rocks. He has done everything for me from giving me shots in the arse with the biggest needle I have ever seen when I was going through IVF, to now draining a nasty bodily-fluid-filled grenade from my belly. They will call each day to get our numbers, and when the amount draining decreases to a certain amount, the drains will come out. That day cannot come soon enough, because those fuckers are PAINFUL. Aside from the fact that my incision runs hip to hip, the drains (particularly the left one) feel like fire every time I get up to walk, which I am doing completely bent over. Not fun. My friend Gretchen (who had a tuck about 6 weeks ago) says the first 48 hours are the worst. Pray God that is right, because if so, I'm half-way there.
1:15 a.m., 3:45 a.m., 5:15 a.m.:
Percoset/muscle relaxer; antibiotic; Percoset time
Thankfully I am able to go right back to sleep each time. I am, in fact, surprised how well I have been able to sleep. Ah the wonders of drugs.