Holy heck, y'all.
Well, it seems as though I survived my surgery and you are stuck with me for a while longer yet, friends. I'm really sore and bruised and am on enough meds to supply a small clinic, but I'm alive. And alive, my dears, is a pretty great way to be.
A Few Fun Facts:
1. My medicine has made my stomach swell to the size of a watermelon. Not the rest of me, just my mid-section. I'm told the swelling is fluid retention and "will go down". I sure hope so. Otherwise, I really hope Mason's has some sweet maternity clothes I can sport at the NWA Fashion Week show that S and I are walking in on Saturday.
2. Yes, I am a crazy woman for agreeing to be in a fashion show 12 days after major surgery. This may be my 5'4" self's only chance to grace a catwalk and come hell or high water - I'm walkin'.
3. My incision looks gnarly. I will spare you the pics. It's very Frankenstein-esque. Only on my chest instead of my head.
Obvi.
4. Scars are the new black this season. You heard it here first.
The surgery went well and the folks at Arkansas Children's Hospital took excellent care of me : ) I seriously fell in love with my nurses and am pretty sure they are some of the most under-appreciated folks in healthcare. Those women and men are angels in human form. On days when you can't even comprehend daunting tasks like sitting up or walking to the bathroom, they swoop in and save the day.
And give you another shot of Demerol.
Oh my, y'all. Stephen is amazing. He slept on that glorified folding chair that they call a bed without a single complaint. He was by my side for the entire ordeal, getting me apple juice and fluffing my pillows and taking copious notes each time the doctors made their rounds.
Writing down every aftercare instruction, noting each medication and it's appropriate dosage.
He held my IV tubes out of the way while I went to the potty. He made numerous trips to Walgreen's for random things one needs during a hospital stay, like
Marie Claire and "granny panties", (trust me, WAY more comfortable when you're laying in a hospital bed than the sexier variety.)
He saw me at my worst.
And didn't take off running like an Olympic sprinter.
I also want to acknowledge my mama and daddy, (suddenly, this has become an Academy Award speech), ...they deserve major fist bumps, too. I have the best parents in the world and they've been such blessings these past couple of weeks. Really they're just awesome all the time.
My in-laws are utterly fabulous, too. Calls and texts and prayers 24/7 from those folks. I won the in-law lottery, I swear. My sis-in-law
Sarah put together an adorable basket of candy, magazines and
The Hunger Games book, which I've been dying to read. My husband came from great stock...and I'm proud to have come into such a helpful and loving second family.
And lastly, thank you to all of
yous. That's right,
yous. (Apparently, I'm Joe Pesci today. "Nice to meet 'yous"). Thank you for all of your prayers, emails, texts, Tweets and snail mail. There are some pretty dark days post-surgery and you all helped bring some much needed light into those days.
Blogging is a blessing - this has only been reaffirmed during the past week.
I'm not sure how much I'll be around this week. I'm still really sore and tired and it has taken me approximately 27 and a half hours to type this post. But I'm back...and still blonde...and still obsessed with Starbucks lattes (even though I've only had one since being released.)
And I'm wearing heels as I type this, even though I'm wearing sweatpants.
A bump in the road is no excuse to lose your swagger, after all.
Be blessed, lovelies-
