Old and Sassy

This morning I woke up with sarcasm just rolling off my lips.  Quick to quip, my husband decided I needed a caffeine fix.  He was right.

You see, last Friday I had surgery and I've been pent up on our couch ever since.  Yesterday, was the first time I escaped our home in five days.  What a relief.  There are only so many, "My Great American Gypsy Wedding" shows you can watch before your mind turns to jello.

When a doctor tells you a procedure is minor and you're in your 50's...don't believe them!  I can tell you, my recovery from this is slow and it annoys a cantankerous, old broad like me.  Although it is indeed minor to the 20 or 30 year old, at 50, it is just nonsense.  But for the pain that I was having in my foot, I would not have embarked on this journey.  I will be wearing a boot for the next month and am losing the last 2 weeks of my summer break.  Ice and pillows have become my bff's.

My first post-op drive was to the podiatrist.  Despite WHERE I was going, I was happy just to get out.   I took a sponge bath the night before and washed my hair in the sink...date night! Unfortunately, I left about half the shampoo in.  We're in monsoon season and I recognized immediately, this could be a potential disaster.  One heavy rain and there would be suds everywhere.  Fortunately, the sky merely remained cloudy (although I must confess, I would have liked to have seen that transformation!  Yes, I am easily entertained these days.)  

The podiatrist changed my bandage -- and I must say, he does fine handiwork.  I think the scar will be minimal.  However, with a bandage change, my foot has become far more flexible.  Enter pain.  UGH!  He ordered pain meds and I got a call from the pharmacy as I was checking out of his office -- my insurance refused to pay for the pain meds he prescribed -- $86.00!  After talking to them for 10 minutes, he decided samples were the best way to go.  God.Bless.Him.

My husband and I decided to celebrate my being out by having dinner at our favorite local pub.  The familiar smell of cigarettes and beer hit my face the moment we hit the door.  We were greeted by our favorite waitress and ordered breakfast for dinner.  This was my first "real" meal post- surgery, as everything my husband cooked the past week has just made my stomach turn.  I have been on a heavy diet of toast and not much more.

Of course, that has made my waistline all the more "comfortable," as described by my husband.  Thank God for a man who loves a voluptuous woman 'cause he sure got one (and a half!)  After I got home and watched a Dr. Phil and several Judge Judy's, I realized I could no longer stand the feel of my hair.   The distinct feel of shampoo stickiness was more than I could bear. So, climbing onto a step-stool with my big, clunky boot and praying I would stay on the stool and not break my ass, I proceeded to first rinse (I was correct -- suds came rolling out) then, rewashing my hair.  Although it is now standing out in every direction, it does at least, feel clean.

I then decided I did not like my hair color.  No, I did not attempt this procedure myself (thank God!) but I did text my hairdresser until 9 PM with screenshots from Pinterest with suggestions for my next appointment.  I am actually choosing what I would deem a "normal" color, having spent the past year as gray, pink, platinum, red and burgundy.  I am slowly accepting that at 57, perhaps pink and purple are not the colors for me.  But, it is a relatively harmless change (except for the bald patches on my head!  Just kidding...)

And so, this morning, I am snarky.  I am going to see the movie Dunkirk later today and not sure how that will play out with my sarcasm in tow.  I am certain it will die down (no pun intended).  I'm not sure about watching a film of that intensity, having watched every reality show that no one could ever possibly want to see and then some.  I will probably cry.   Of course, I am starting to cry when I watch "Say Yes to the Dress" so it will actually be nice to cry to something of substance.

As my nausea from pain meds gears up, so must this blog die down.  It has been a fun, little diversion for the last 20 minutes.  I promised myself I would read but cannot seem to focus.  Must be the meds.  Maybe the pain or nausea.  In any case, I can tell you this much.  Getting old does give one certain advantages -- you can be as sassy as you like and no one will bat an eye.  I am thankful this nausea is from pain meds rather than pregnancy...a strong reminder that getting old is indeed a blessing!