Do I sound bitter? Because I'm not. The surgery appears to have been successful. Other than surgical pain, he is doing pretty well. His arm pain is gone. Hallelujah. The kids have been spoiled at grandma's house for the past few days. Everybody at the hospital has been fantastic. We have great insurance. So many pieces fell into place just right to make this surgery miraculously come together in three short days from his initial consult with the doctor. My co-workers stepped up to the plate for me and covered my shifts at work on short notice so that I could be here. No doubt in my mind we have been greatly blessed.
But man oh man am I tired. Florence Nightingale I am not. Playing nurse makes me grumpy and I haven't even really started the full-time caregiver role yet. I hope for both our sakes that he gets better fast. Worrying about people with screws loose in their necks stresses me out. Every time he moves for the next few weeks I am going to cringe just a little bit inside. No matter that I have the doctor's and the physical therapists reassurance that movement is good, as long as it's not painful, I'm still going to worry that he's going to do something stupid and break himself.