convalescing

I think things went well with my surgery yesterday. The scariest part was getting hooked up to the iv. Do you ever get used to that? I had hoped to be put into a fog quickly--like, within minutes of entering the hospital. But as I was wheeled into the operating room--the brightest, coldest room I've ever seen--I felt way too awake. A nurse reached for my hand and asked if I could scoot off the gurney onto the operating table. I said "I could dance onto the table. I'm way too awake!" And that's the last thing I remember before waking up in recovery.

Now I'm home, with my foot propped up at what seems like a 45 degree angle, doped up on percocet, eating comfort foods (mostly squishy white bread and whole milk, which I never let myself have), and drifting in and out of sleep while I listen to "Deep Tracks Weekend" on my local classic rock station. Their idea of deep tracks isn't all that deep. Right now it's that super rare Elton John song "Where To Now, St. Peter?" Oh well. It's comforting and way better company than the tv, which makes me feel tawdry.

Speaking of which, thanks for the smart tv recommendations in the comments to my last post. I supervised an honors thesis on Wooster and Jeeves a couple of years ago, so that might be just the thing. My stepmother is sending me her beloved dvds of some Horatio Hornblower series. Not really my thing, but I'll watch enough to fake an enthusiastic response, since it is a very sweet gesture.

Back to sleep. Thank you all for the nice thoughts.