It's been a week today (so that makes this day 8, according to my system) since I had my tonsillectomy. Here's what I have to report.
Don't stop setting your alarm and try to sleep through a night without keeping up your Vicodin. Just don't do it. Not yet. I'll tell you what day I was able to do it. But take my advice.
I didn't work yesterday. I stayed in bed all day. It was good. I started feeling a little stir-crazy. (Not that I hadn't already felt like if I but had the strength I could tear down my walls. The ugly winter weather and howling wind, of course, make me feel a little less inclined.) I spread my half-doses of pain killer out to 5 or 5 1/2 hours. OK. I took some Ibuprofen, which is really the stuff if you want to kill pain for longer periods of time and maybe take care of some swelling too. But it's not really strong enough to do the trick.
I found that out at 5:30 in the morning when I woke up with somebody's sword stuck down my throat. This is not a sexual innuendo; it's a description of the pain. It was enough to make me feel dizzy and shaky. I got up, took some Vicodin, and knew I wouldn't be OK in just two hours to get up and go to work, especially since I had insomnia (an unfortunate side effect of feeling well enough to get restless and require less sleep but not well enough to do anything about the energy. A side effect, I think of anxiety disorder's side effects).
I called in and forced a very VERY tired self to get up at 10:30 and go to work. I was in at 11 and sort of creepy-crawled through my day, like a wild animal on the edge of the park who doesn't want to be noticed.
That's day 8.
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