The day after the triumphant return.

Maybe I was a little over-confident in my post yesterday. Maybe I painted the world just a little rosier than it really is.

I’m not saying my psyche isn’t in a better place than it was two days ago. I’m not going to claim that the ‘festering wounds of the dimension and severity rarely seen outside of the tropics’ aren’t more moderate today than yesterday morning. But quite frankly, the frickin’ drugs have worn off.

It went sour first thing this morning. I was happy as a lark, thinking the world was a beautiful place, humming as I got ready for a wonderful day. I went to change my dressing. GASP! The incision is much larger than what I was told to expect. It truly starts from the middle of my palm and goes down to just past the top of my wrist. And it is ugly and jagged. And I damn near passed out.

Any day that starts like that should be spent in bed. But no, I went to work anyway. I lasted 3.5 hours before I hit the wall.

All-in-all, it’s okay. They told me a half day today, and I almost made it. Hopefully I can make it the rest of the week.