Post-op day 3

It's POD #3, as they say in the biz. Swelling after trauma generally starts to go down after the third day, so I'm hoping for rapid improvement in this horrible pain. Today is my first full day at home, and my parents reluctantly concede I am self-sufficient enough not to need someone monitoring my home 24-7. It's like they want to make up for neglecting me as a child or something.

My sis wants to visit this weekend from Boston. "I know you're not up for company, " she says, "but I'll stay out of the way and take the kids around to their activities. We know we're being an annoying family, but most families are, you know." She makes me laugh out loud, so I say OK.

I just awakened from this really hard, deep afternoon nap. You know the kind. I dreamed I was visiting my sister, and walking around her neighborhood was something like Dr. Seuss Land. The people walked exotic, flamboyant, colorful, one of a kind dogs that resembled themselves. The trees were groomed in the form of intricate long, slender show dogs or birds, complete with soft fur, floppy ears, or feathers, and big eyes. The sidewalks were icy, but perfect for shimmying down like a surfer or a skateboarder on the soles of my sneakers.

My kids have Columbus Day off, so I'll have them for the long weekend? They're excited about the meal menus they planned, "I call dinner", "I call breakfast."

I'm excited about having my blankets arranged well. When the weather turns chilly and I'm alone in bed, I like lots of downy, plushy-soft blankets. When my children were little, I used to remove all the blankets from their beds before they got in. Then they would lie down. Then one by one, I would grab each sheet or blanket by two corners, and when they said "Go!", I'd fling it high up to the ceiling and let it float down on a billowy cushion of air to meet them. When this was done for all five or so blankets, we knew they were tucked in snuggly for the night.