Monday, January 17, 2011
Recovery Tales: My Blue Monday
I am on day 12 of my post-tonsillectomy. My throat, while no where near as raw as it had been a week ago still cannot handle the kind of solids that I'd love to be eating right about now (hello salad; hello chicken sandwhich -- mama is waiting to wrap her sweet lips around you).
Today is the first full day in 3 weeks that I have been by myself. Up until now, my husband, my stepkids, my parents and/or my brother and sister had been around. My husband is back in Canada, working, my stepkids are with their mom, and I am well enough to not need supervision.
And it all kind of sucks.
In addition to a lovely case of thrush (for those who don't know what that is -- I have a yeast infection on my tongue as a result of the tonsil surgery) I have also developed a wicked cough/chest congestion that is making me feel miserable.
My head, mouth and lungs are basically a war zone My throat is achy, I have a "coat" on my tongue that feels like cotton by my uvula and and my chest and nose are having a custody fight over who gets to claim my mucous.
And I'm all alone.
It's fitting that today is apparently Blue Monday -- the most depressing day of the year. I'm wishing I could hug my mom or lean on my husband's shoulder; however, I'm at home, working, and struggling to stay awake. I get to see my husband in 4 more sleeps, but that just seems like too long.
I figured I'd write a blog post in the off chance someone will write a comment that will make it feel like my loved ones are right here with me. I might go scrape all the stuffed animals of the kids' beds and wrap them around me just so I feel hugged.
I'm doing a radio show with Peggy tonight, thankfully, although I might be muted for the most of it because of my cough and not-quite-100% voice. I know talking with my fellow stepmoms will make me feel better -- it always does -- but I can't help but feel overcome by my recovery funk.
Because I can't right now, go home and hug a loved one tonight will you please! Tell them you love them and are glad they are right there beside (or in front of) you. Let me hug and lean vicariously through you all.