So, the worst of it is over, thankgodthankgodthankgod (even though I still really don’t know how to pray). Handsome Husband is recovering beautifully-he had his 2nd surgery (which is really his 3rd when you account for the very first one where they did the biopsy). He’s walking a little over an hour daily, to keep everything limber and gain back mobility. Yes, there are still bloody bandages etc, and I still don’t look at formerly Wilson’s wrist area, but its getting better! His wrist/hand/fingers are very stiff, and more painful than any of the rest of his body, so we’ve been incorporating light massage into the picture to help that. But, in a little return to normalcy, he has moved from the couch to our bed! Yay! Sleeping together for the first time since-hell, when was the last time? (and we are only sleeping-get your mind out of the gutter! The man is my patient, for goodness sake!)
So, I’m going to be the next one at the doctor, doesn’t it figure? I’m sure its’ nothing, but its uncomfortable enough that I want to get it checked out, and, seriously, I’m smart enough to know when something is going on. In the last few days, I’ve become more and more aware that my heart is racing in my chest. Only way I can describe it is as an adrenalin surge-at least that’s what it feels like. It just pounds and pounds and I have to take a deep breath. Stress related? Anxiety? Has Wilson left his temporary mark on me? Of course, immediately, I think, oh, lord, what a wuss, Alison! What kind of an Empress are you that your body is reacting this way to, well, life and the shit that it hands out regularly? Or, it might not be stress-maybe its’ really something…who knows? So, little old me will get my butt to the dr this week to discover, hopefully, what is going on. Apparently, Handsome has been getting too much of the attention and now I need some..