I'm Back

Cuzilu here.  Yes, really it's me.  I have been released from the hospital because after the surgery, they felt that they couldn't do anything more for me.  Because Jeff was going out of town to do some airplane stuff, Jeff picked me a "to go" bag and rounded the girls up in the car and off to Virginia we went.

The girls got along famously with Andrew's dogs, although there were a number of potty training accidents (insert unhappy face here).  I was well cared for at their house, but because I'm stubborn and have an "I can do this by myself" attitude, I fell twice.  Okay, so perhaps I can't do everything.

I am eligible for home care and a nurse came out to see me and talk to Jeff and I about my continuing care.  I am, at this point in time, really useless.  Obviously, I can't walk so I hobble around with my rollator, which just now allowed me to get close enough to my office chair to chat with all of you for a minute.

Stitches are supposed to come out on Wednesday, which isn't going to change anything much for me, as the actual incision isn't particularly painful.  But, I'll have an awesome scar on the back of my leg!  

Jeff is working very, very hard to take care of me.   And, I on the opposite end of my care make things more difficult for him, than I need/should.  You know those wedding vows: richer, poorer, sickness and in health.  There was nothing in those vows that said anything about emptying out my "porta potty" each morning.  That particular chore is asking a lot of a person, and hopefully I will be able to "walk" more or less and get myself to the bathroom.  Baby steps people, baby steps.

While in the hospital, busy being a blob in my hospital bed, I found a television show called "Street Outlaws".  Now why I binged on that show, I cannot say.  It's like watching an accident and you can't look away.  These guys race mostly for money (a lot of money) and race each other down an unused road and hope and pray that the police don't show up!  Anyway, I love the bravado that each of these drivers have and the amount of money they can and do put up for a race.  Sometimes, that number has a "comma".  I think I would probably kill Jeff if he came home one day and said casually, "oh by the way, I lost $5,000 today on a race".  Of course, I'd sing a different tune if he said that he had won $5,000.  

Well, while I enjoy being back at the keyboard, my leg is telling me to get my "hinney" (however you spell it, back to my chair and continue watching cheesy television.

Thank you all for reading Jeff's guest blogs.  I was afraid that if you didn't "hear" from me, you might wander away to somebody else's blog, and we can't have that, can we?  More tomorrow.

P