This is the second surgery I've had in less than four months. I'm supposed to be on bed rest, getting up only to go to the bathroom, fill a glass or a plate and back to bed. I am allowed to do more only as I feel up to it, but no lifting, pushing or strenuous activity. No baths, no exercising, no dog walking. Those last few things calm me down. And when the anxiety gets as bad as it has been the last few weeks, not having those outlets is killing me.
Physically, I'm doing well. The pain is able to be controlled by the occasional dose of Ibuprofen and the bleeding is at a minimum, I think. I'm finally able to sleep in bed instead of on the couch. I feel up to doing light cooking and playing fetch with Lucky. I'm not where I want to be, but I'm farther than I thought I'd be.
Emotionally, however, is a different story. I don't know what's going on. The mood swings I'm having are like PMS and Cujo-level rabies got together and had a love child and that love child was raised by Charles Manson. I go from one extreme to another on a flip of a coin and there's no way of telling which way the coin will fall. If all this had happened in February after my right ovary came out, then I could blame it on hormone changes because of the missing ovary. But it's been almost four months since it came out and these mood swings didn't start (according to those around me) until this surgery last week. It's almost like my left ovary is suddenly useless or something. It's bizarre.
I do have an unexpected vacation to look forward to in a couple weeks, though, so that helps with the depression I've been dealing with. It's caused me some anxiety, but overall, it'll be a good thing, so I'm trying to keep that in the forefront of my mind.
In the meantime, when I'm bitchy and downright mean, please just ignore it. It's not you. It's me. I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired.