Thought it was over didn’t ya?  DIDN’T YA?!?!  NO. SUCH. LUCK.

Since I just sucked you into the drama that was all things Black Dog Surgery Shenanigans (here, here, and oh yes, here!), I figured I would continue to regale you with the continuing adventures of Black Dog Recovery Shenanigans.  You just peed your pants a little, didn’t ya?  DIDN’T YA?!?!?

We last left off with me wondering if I had said anything embarrassing while under the influence of the Happy Juice.  At this point however, I really don’t care any more.  Let’s just hope a) I didn’t, and 2. when I return for Surgery Shenanigans Part 2, cutie patootie is not present.  Just imagine what wondrous, witty, whacked out things could possibly emanate from my Happy Juice-induced yap a second time.  E-GADS.

The rest of surgery day was spent back at the humble abode, stoned out in leftover happy juice/painkiller fog.  In other words, I have no idea what happened.  Other than I’m pretty sure I continued to utter spontaneous nonsensical utterances of nonsense.  Oh wait, that’s what I do every day.  Hmmmmm……

The next couple of days are pretty foggy.  Which is actually pretty funny as I actually did some work from home those days.  However, as I haven’t gotten any irate “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING YOU SIMPLE-MINDED, INTELLIGENCE-CHALLENGED IDIOT?!” emails, (or at least more than usual), I guess I managed to get something accomplished.  Random thought: perhaps I should include Vicodin as part of my daily decision-making process.  Seems to work AND makes things more interesting.  Then again, MAY possibly not be looked at in a positive light by one’s supervisors. Then again, I have a pretty good supervisor.  Who has kids.  Two of them.  She may be grateful.

Two days after surgery, I got to drag my painkiller-infused brain back to the surgeon.  And finally got to see what was going on under this.

Sadly, it was nothing more exciting than a couple of steri-strips and a whole lot of swelling.

As I gimped my way into the weekend on crutches and nothing stronger than ibuprofen – which, for the record, doesn’t work worth a dog poop – I was anxious to see how long it was going to take for some real healing to begin.  (SPOILER ALERT: STILL waiting.  Hang on.  Yup.  Still waiting.  Oh, wait, maybe….nope.  Still waiting.)

Up next:  Black Dog Goes Postal and Threatens To Take Poor, Unsuspecting Victim Out With Crutches.  Intriguing, isn’t it?

Enjoy the ride.

Ever had a moment when you thought your impatience would take someone out at the knees?  (Hehehe,  get it?  The knees?)  I digress.  Again.  What do you do to deal with something that is testing your patience?  Take a deep breath?  Throw something?  Temper tantrum??