Thursday, Jul 31, 2014
Dorothy Harris

Feeling gimpy and bleary


Published:

I’ve been gimpy for the past several weeks. Opting to be proactive with a potential medical issue, I elected to have some minor surgery. By this time in life, I should realize no surgery is minor. Even if the procedure is simple and recovery fast, the impacts to daily life create widespread aggravations.

The dual procedures, done on separate occasions, may have been essentially the same, but my experience was completely different each time. Why does this even surprise me? One was extremely unpleasant, if tolerable experience, the other was much easier on me but evolved into some excitement for those providing service when I checked out in a faint. Mr. Harris was present for all and may be even happier than I to have these experiences behind us.

Caring for a loved one who’s had any kind of procedure can be a real drain on one’s resources. Fetching drinks and pretzels while adjusting pillows and single handedly taking care of the daily household workload is almost enough to make one feel worse than the patient does. Listening to ongoing whining about how it’s taking too long to recover might actually be detrimental enough to one’s health that someone should slap a warning label on it.

I’m just not a very good patient as I expect to bounce right back. I’m a busy person and I’ve got stuff to do. Not being able to do all I normally do is exasperating to me although I managed fairly well this time with the exception of feeling fatigued. Whether it was simply part of the healing process or a result of not sleeping well during the recuperation, I felt wiped out for longer than I cared to. I’m sure Mr. Harris is very thankful this has nearly abated because he’s tired of listening to me speculate on why I’m still feeling exhausted. He keeps reminding me I’m healing and that the cats don’t let us sleep.

Our cats seem to have an uncanny ability to judge when their human parents are most needing sleep and then, likely as punishment for cutting off the canned food, begin their ritual of sleep deprivation. I can almost imagine them planning their nighttime torture of the human family members.

“Okay,” Shere-Khan, always the ring leader, snarls to the others, “We wait until you hear the big guy beginning to snore, because that’s when they are deep in sleep. As soon as we hear that, I will begin singing. Shrinky, that’s your cue to start chewing on the mom lady’s hair. When she wakes up and hollers at me to hush, I’ll run over and wake up the dog so the man will have to get up and let her out. When he opens the door, I’ll bolt into the driveway so he has to run out and catch me. They’ll rue the day they cut us off from canned food, bah, ha, ha.”

Seriously, this has been our experience the past couple of weeks. I’m trying to not whine too much and recuperate quickly, Mr. Harris is trying to do as much as possible so I can rest and the kid is dealing with end of school year stress over exams and such. It’s been a bit of a rough time around the Harris household. If you see us and we all look bleary, maybe you could offer to cat sit for us? I’m sure they’ll behave better at your house than they do at home, right?

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