Floored

Me, that is, and my digestive system, that is. I went in for my surgery, and I had been a bit worried that it might be more gruelling than expected. Keep in mind that the only real thing my surgeon had said was that I'd go home on the day of the operation and that I'd have to avoid any heavy lifting for two weeks.

Well, I am now three days post-op and have only just gotten home today. And oh boy did I get sliced apart. I've been told to take two weeks off work minimum, that I will take six weeks to recover fully, and even if I were ready before the two weeks are up, there was a Covid outbreak in my ward, in a nearby section, meaning I have to stay home and self-isolate for another seven days anyway.

Annoyed isn't the word. Agony comes close. It comes and goes, since right now I am sitting still and have zero pain but when I move I hit a five, and every now and then it shoots up to eleven. I've got the heavy-duty pain relief, but I don't want to spend 24 hours a day sozzled for the odd times now and then when the pain skyrockets.

I had no choice but to go shopping for easy and suitable food. This sucks when your freezer is full, but I just can't be sure I will be able to cook, and I was missing far too many appropriate items. So far I've forced down half a scotch egg and half a pasty with a bit of cheese. I also ate a strawberry donut before it went past date. Every single thing I eat requires water and dried fruit as an accompaniment, since my poor innards are living a horror movie. I am dosed to the hilt with anti-inflammatories and stuff to make me... go... which isn't, so far, very successful.

My lovely boss and supervisors have leapt to my rescue. I feel terrible for the complete lack of warning they've had since we all expected me back today and I'm in no fit state! Supe #1 has been terrific and so incredibly kind, offering to shop for me, ordering me to look after myself and promising me that I needn't worry about work. I will be on a staged return, they will ensure I go on light duties once I am well enough and have told me to take my time. That's a relief.

Sadly my bank balance is going to suffer and I will lose a good £600 of earnings for the privilege of hugging my stomach and rocking back and forth in pain. I haven't done a survey more than 10 minutes long in months - but it seems I shall have to lose my pickiness and take them all from here on. UC will probably kick in a couple of hundred pounds at least.

Flat sale remains at a standstill... solicitor needs to be nagged to keep me in the loop and nobody seems to be addressing my biggest concern.