There is still no sign of “my” little wood chuck, but then I think his burrow is snowed under, and I daresay he’s gone back to bed. I would if I was him.
I spent most of last week in bed myself, although I did pop up to take the occasional snap.
You really do have to be your own advocate these days. Just why I have always been so agreeable to let doctors have their various ways with my body, I’m not sure, but after this last episode I shall maybe not so willing.
The original idea was to rid myself of the frog in my throat. It’s such an annoying affliction, for you and for anyone within earshot.
It came as news to me when the ENT doctor informed me that my nose was broken. I have a vague childhood memory of my mother taking me to a doctor in London, when I was perhaps five, and the doctor telling her that something was “not right” in my nose, but that was the end of that story.
So, it was recently suggested that getting my septum sorted, as well as a general sort of tidy-up of my nasal cavity, would be a good idea.
And as usual I said “OK, where and when?”
Not that I am complaining. This could still turn out to have been a good idea.
But I ought to have done some research. After all, it’s so easy to do these days. I could have been better prepared, mentally.
I would have expected to feel unwell for the duration. Although, I probably needed only to think about it, to realize that having splints in your nose wouldn’t feel good. Duh.
The surgery itself, no worse than one might expect. Just imagine someone hitting you on the nose with a mallet.
You won’t want the messy details of “after”. I’ll just mention two words. “Bloody” and “clots”.
And I now know how a cat feels when it hocks up a large hairball.
When you’re my age, time flies by. The weeks just sail past, one after the other, faster and faster. Till last week. It draaagged…one headache after another.
The cats were happy, when I stayed in bed, which was mostly because my head seemed to weigh a ton. I couldn’t manage to put two sensible thoughts together.
So I wallowed, which is really rather rare, and I whinged. Not a whole lot…but more than usual.
Brushing my teeth on Thursday morning, I suddenly had the disquieting sensation that part of my head was sliding down my throat.
Which it was.
Fortunately it was a recently acquired part that I didn’t need.
So by Monday last, I couldn’t wait for what I hoped would be relief.
It wasn’t as immediate as advertised, but things are improving and I’m told this will continue.
Is the frog gone? Too soon to tell, I guess.
It will be a while, I think, before I get talked into any more surgery, however.
Not without a second opinion, at least.
Maybe it was the after effects of anesthesia combined with the affect of the Super Moon that made my mind a muddle…but wasn’t the moon beautiful?