Fiorella and Addictive Drugs

Interesting.  Fio came across an old blog that Husband wrote while Fio was recovering from heart surgery several years ago and learned that she'd had such a bad reaction to massive doses of Vicodin (=hydrocodone) that she'd refused to take it so the doctor moved her to massive doses of Tylenol.

What was that reaction, you ask.  The same as after her hip replacement--hallucinations whether she was asleep or awake.  Yes, your Fio is not destined for life as a drug addict.  She likes the world to make sense, to have cause and effect, perhaps the most outrageous hallucination of all.

If It's Not One Thing . . . .

The foot healed overnight. but the hand's gonna be in splint for a couple of days yet. For once it's a good thing that Fio sight-types rather than touch-types. But getting dressed or undressed is an ordeal. Try fastening all those bra hooks with just one hand. And, while you're at it, try brushing your teeth with an untrained hand.

But Fio has to be careful about Lefty too because a large weighted window shade fell on her while she was trying to lower it for the night, and now her left hand has two gashes across it that have a tendency to keep on bleeding.

And she's just been released from physical therapy for her hip.

Multi-tasker

Fio has to pat herself on the back because she's a never-say-die kinda gal.  Sure, she has her ups and downs--and those downs can be twenty miles deep--but she's usually so sunny as to be irritating.  And she's always loaded with ideas--again, irritatingly so.  Those gallons of bath water she stored on the balcony last year in anticipation of the drought of the century this year are still there, probably breeding the killer bacteria of the century. 

Yeah, Fio is always into something and has a notebook full of back-up assignments to boot.  Right now she's racing to finish the final run-through of the former Princess of Bosque Bend, running laundry upstairs, and pondering how to handle this blog while she's incapacitated after the hip surgery on Wednesday.

Please wish her well.  On all counts.

Scheduled for October 17th

Think kindly toward Fio.  She's scheduled for hip surgery on October 17, and, from what she's read--in the 43-page and 50-page preparation manuals--the recovery is a bear.  But Fiorella would rather go through a grueling recovery than continue to hobble around like she does now, gulping down five half-hydrocodones by day and one in the middle of the night, often resorting to sleeping in the bathtub.

But afterwards she'll have to give up sitting on her comfortable cushioned couch while she writes or watched television.  And because she won't be allowed to use stairs for an unknown period, she'll have to sleep downstairs in the guest room.  And with the utility room upstairs, she won't be able to do laundry either. And all her cosmetics will have to be moved downstairs from the master bathroom.  And her clothes from the master closet.

On the other hand, Fio went through open heart surgery years ago and is all the better for it.  God bless modern medicine.

Saturday Morning Snippets

Fiorella has started taking down the Christmas decorations--slowly. Why should she hurry? After all, it took a month to get them up.
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Younger Son commiserated with us about Bowser, Daughter sent a link to the Austin animal shelter and even researched a couple of dogs for us, and Older Son phoned us from Minnesota because he was so concerned. Obviously, Fio and Husband have raised children with compassion, and what more can you ask for? It's what separates good people from bad, us from the beasts.
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Did Fio tell you that she seems to be recovering, that she's no longer using a cane? The orthopod said her hip will not get better, but something's happening. Maybe it's that Fio is exercising more, or maybe it's the pain pills she wallows in. Or maybe, being Fiorella and strong-minded, she's healing herself with positive thinking.

Mixed Bag

The thunderstorm last night was scary, but, on the other hand, it rained. The skittish armadillo hasn't been caught yet, but yesterday a bigger, fatter one wandered into the trap (number eight). Fiorella's hip still hurts, but her eye has healed. Last, but not least, Fiorella is so high on painkillers that she can't even remember her last name, but why should she care?