The psychic shoulder required professional help to fix it. So, the Thursday after Labor Day I had surgery.
I wasn't allowed to eat for 12 hours before surgery, so Wednesday night, New Boy stuffed me full of portobello ravioli. The next morning at o'dark thirty, superfriend M picked me up and took me to the hospital. I gave her the list of allergies, phone numbers, etc. and she sweetly hung out with me while waiting for everyone to be ready for showtime. She also managed to get the nurse to give her my prescription for Percoset which she got filled while I was under the knife. There were a few interesting moments. The first of which came when we were talking to the anesthesiolgist, going over my list of allergies. I said, yeah and I'm deathly allergic to K right as the nurse was apparently hanging a bag of it on my IV. Nearly comical freezing mid-air.
The second came when I woke up from anesthesia. I had warned them I don't handle anesthesia well. I didn't remember going under, thought I hadn't had surgery yet, and inexplicably had the overwhelming urge to sob. The nurse told me this is common if you have control issues. Shocking. All I knew was I was confused, and I wanted to see New Boy RIGHT NOW. They also couldn't get my blood pressure down and I was cold and shaking, piled under five hospital blankets. I don't know what they do to make them so warm, but it's like getting laundry straight from the dryer.
M took me home, kept track of my schedule of drugs, and basically babysat me until New Boy picked me up at lunchtime. The next day she brought me Starbucks and baby-sat me again while New Boy was at work. The plan had been to try to meet up with a third friend B for lunch if I was feeling up to it, or just caged, but B wasn't available, and I felt like ish. The GA had completely worn off, I couldn't sleep, the Aleve upset my stomach, and the Percoset made me itch and it difficult to breathe. It's 1:00 and New Boy is not home yet. Turns out he decided that this was the most appropriate time to buy a HDTV. Yes, while my friend is at his house watching me so he didn't have to take off a ton of vacation time, and I am in pain, he is going to buy a TV. Not bothering to call and check on me first, or ask if M has to be anywhere. He also said a number of things that were pretty cruel, like I was self-centered. Needless to say, this did not go over well. Last I checked, I'd had surgery, was having a reaction to the painkillers, and had taken care of him during his comps and when his mom was in the hospital. I had hoped my boyfriend would take care of me post-op out of love, but at the bare minimum quid pro quo Clarice.
I ended up at M's house for the duration of the weekend. She and her husband were kind beyond words, and I owe them a ton. Especially Saturday morning when I woke from my Percoset induced haze and thought it was Sunday, and got a little panicky and belligerent. I hate drugs. Their cats kept watch over me both nights, watching to make sure I was still breathing, occasionally crawling up to check, then crawling back down to the foot of the bed.
It's been six weeks and my shoulder is slowly healing, trying to heal things with New Boy, but the wound from the fight seems deeper than the one from the surgery.