A note from the couch

According to the dictionary, the meaning of CONVALESCE is to recover one’s health and strength over a period of time after an illness or medical treatment.

According to me, to CONVALESCE is to do nothing but explore everything within one metre of the couch or bed. It means spending FAR too much time in my head, with a mixed bag of results.

Last Friday I fronted up the to Mater Hospital for some day surgery on my leg. I had an accident years ago and the screws, while they lay dormant for decades, decided that they wished to see the light of day again. Also, a mystery alien growth was coming along for the ride. That growth is in pathology now, giving me cause for concern that it might be nasty and my whole let might need to be removed, but hey… HALF PRICED PEDICURES FOR THE WIN!

See what I mean about living too much in my head? Who thinks of these things!


The Mater Hospital was amazing, the staff where kind and soothing and dispensed hot blankets when required. The anaesthetist was appropriately handsome, so I let him know as he put me under.

“You are quite handsoomzzzzzzzz”

And then I woke up in another room with a lady holding my hand, making soothing noises. I was quite off my face! We had a lively and interesting chat about what was likely to be on the recovery sandwiches, before she moved me into a room to eat the recovery sandwiches. (Chicken, salad and ham.)

I had another little sleep.

I woke up and checked my leg which was bandaged up like the Michelin Man and throbbing like a bitch. I was given another pill for the pain, which also lead me to have more interesting conversations with recovering patients beside me.

There are three stages of recovery after surgery. Stage one, completely off your face, Stage two, Chatty Cathy off your face and then Stage 3. you can have a cup of hot tea and speak in a more considered manner. When you hit Stage 3, you get to go home.

To rest.

No on paper this was very appealing. Rested all day Saturday after a fitful sleep. On Sunday, I went out to lunch. I was fine…


So the last few days I have been on heavy convalescence duties which is driving me fucking spare. I throw children out the door and retreat to the couch or bed and do a little WOE IS ME NOBODY CARES, but that’s just the thing. People DO care! I have had food being dropped off, but not any food! Good, delicious soups and pies and coffees and diet cokes. Fruit platters to help me poop, and chocolate to cheer me up!

I tell my visitors how much I love them and how grateful I am for them then write their name down on a list for future PAY IT FORWARD brownie points.

Penny from the Mater called this morning to see how I was going. I told her honestly that I was having trouble with the RESTING part and she said that I had to adhere to the post op instructions or there will be a price to pay in the future. So it is here that I sit and type.

That’s the thing about blogging. You have to do shit and report back on that shit or else it will just be me running commentary on daytime television.

So I had best be off to order my steam mop and my pre-paid funeral plan, for heaven forbid I would want to add a financial burden to my family in their time of grief.

And yes, for those who asked, despite it being illegal, the surgeon slipped my screws into my handbag. They were rather unassuming and thankless.

When is the last time you were ordered onto bed rest?

Thank GOD for You Tube Cat videos!