It wasn't pretty. As witnessed by this:
In my drug-induced haze, I remember debating if I could overcome fifty plus years of sensibility and put the toilet paper wrapped around the back rather than the front, because it seemed easier to grab with my non-dominant left hand. Yeah, that's going in the book. Being proud of myself for being able to go to the bathroom by myself. I had a tub of flushable baby wipes and an old toothbrush if needed. 'Nuff said.
Another blind panic when I was sure my driver license and insurance card had been lost at the surgery center. We found the ink pen I filched and my dear husband verified in the rush to get me settled, he'd put the cards up in the mail bin. Then, he mowed the lawn and cleaned the kitchen.
Through the Percoset, I love him. Especially after he fixed the charger cord I stepped on for the netbook, opened the package for the battery operated toothbrush (can't tell you how good that felt to use!) and took me to get my hair cut super short. "Are you sure?" The hair dresser was worried I'd regret it later.
Hell, in the now 8-12 weeks I'm scheduled off, it will grow back anyway. I've lost all vanity and apparently modesty as the 20 something physical therapist asked if I minded if he showed me how to put on a shirt. Actually looking forward to not having to mess with bras for a few months. I have a character who develops breast cancer later in my series. I have some experiences to use there too.
So, these will be typed with one hand for a while. Welcome to my new journey. Please feel free to laugh with me and at me.
