So, yes, I'm back to work. I saw the surgeon on the 23rd, and told him I wanted to go back to work the next day. I also told him that we're moving, and that I'm quitting the week of the 15th. He didn't understand why I would bother at first, until I flipped it by pointing out I was still loyal to my docs. He doesn't want me lifting patients, and doesn't think I'd even be able to handle eight hours, much less ten, yet. He said the worst of it would be the fatigue, and he's right.
I was able to do three hours Thursday, then took myself out to lunch, crawled home and slept for four hours. Friday I did four hours, and felt like I could barely make it to my car at the end of it. Today, I made it four hours, feeling tolerably rough after that when I was done. Was able to go get some lunch (because I still do not want to prepare food that has more than three ingredients). I didn't have to sleep this afternoon, but I was able to do....nothing.
But sit here and stew about it.
Sure, pain, but when haven't I had pain for the past two years solid. From something or another. Ridiculous upside-down boob implants. Wires tied to my ribs poking up until the scar tissue formed. Walkin around on a broken fibula because denial is fun. Whatever. Fatigue is a lot of it, far more than it has been a factor with the other surgeries...deep to the core of your body, and sleep is kind of beside the point. I'm mentally very awake. But I can't do much of anything. It's nice to be able to read non-school books again, but I have things to DO. I do remember some fatigue after the pectus surgery, but it was just so exciting at the time to have my left lung open....I wasn't so bloody over it and bored of my own medical problems.
I've also had three weeks of tinnitus, which is I think related to the oxys. Maybe withdrawal? I don't know. Sometimes I am getting nauseated still, the day after I have any narcotic. So I'm not excited to take any at all.
The only things I really know about withdrawal are from taking care of my patients from the ICU, who typically weren't in a state of erudition to be able to explain particularly well. (And you know. Typically I had to tie them down.) And Trainspotting. When I think of withdrawal from opiates, I picture Ewan McGregor crawling out of a toilet. I feel like I'm crumpled enough to fit somewhere small like that, but what I'm going through is just not that cinematic.
I finally broke down about an hour ago, and took one so that I could get downstairs easier.
I'm only writing my complaints because someday I will look back on this and know from whence I came. (Yes, I used the word 'whence'.) It's gonna be better, and I do know that I'm improving every day. It's just too dang slow.