Holey. Schmoley.

This one has knocked me for a loop, Dearies, and methinks it is going to be a fair bit of time before I am back to myself. Dr. Peterson, my surgeon, was able to salvage Buzzy, but it involved quite a bit of revision and a much bigger incision than before. It's a little too gruesome to share with you here, but suffice it to say I won't be showing my arms anytime soon.

The pain is rather extreme, and despite the meds on board I find myself getting hits with waves of wanting to pass out and tumble gracefully to the fainting couch. (Or in my case, face first into the Happy Chair while a horrified Magoo looks on helplessly.)

Even though it's Wednesday, I am not in the d-chair. Given the level of pain and swelling, all parties involved felt it better to skip a treatment and go in on Friday. Poor Lori is going to have to try to find two new spots to stick me, since the old ones are right in the midst of the "construction zone" and won't be ready for another four to six weeks.

(If they are unable to use my arm at all, they will install a temporary port in my neck, but this is not a route we want to go down...too high a risk for infection, especially for somebody on the dosage of immunosuppressants I'm on.)

OK...enough of this. 

We are expecting weather here, apparently, so I am writing a grocery list for Rich. If these were the old days, I could look forward to hunkering down for a week with nowhere to go and nothing to do, but alas...d-chair time is a must.

Phooey.

I'm going to spend the day moving between the Happy Chair and the big girl sleigh bed, Dearies. I don't imagine there will be a lot of stitching happening, but if there is I will be sure to update you accordingly.