Two check-ups today: The surgeon says I'm doing just fine. The infection is in the belly button, one of the dirtiest places, apparently. But it's not a "bad" infection--superficial--and will go away, most likely, with antibiotic cream and regular washing in the shower.
Otherwise, she poked and prodded and is pleased. No carrying more than a jug of milk or equivalent for 6 to 8 weeks. No driving til I'm not on narcotics. (Stepping down from the Percocet to Vicodin and then later to Tylenol with codeine.) Just walking, no PT for months; stairs are good. Regular food. If I have nausea, vomiting, chills, fever at 101, or abdominal pain, I go to the ER, paging them on the way. Only down note: it is possible, in the future, that I'll have another hernia in that messed up belly button area, but for now it's stitched and healing. I can handle a hernia--know what to look for, even before they are critical strangulated and incarcerated--and, well, I won't be pregnant!
So, that's encouraging. I like our surgeon. She can repair all my future hernias!
My second check up was with my therapist, the cognitive one. The surgery and Aunt Sis's death were a big one-two punch, so it's good to sit with her and discuss fear, anxiety, sadness, even anger and frustration. It's a lot of work--meditating, recognizing and naming feelings, speaking truth even when it's hard, maintaining perspective, letting go of control and the compulsion to fix everything--to stay grounded and mindful but it really makes all the difference. I am so much better off--mentally/emotionally/spiritually stronger--than I was four and a half years ago with my back injury.
I'll spend the rest of the day resting from all the poking, physically and mentally. Gommie and I are watching the Grey Gardens remake, eating chicken and eggplant parms from the Italian deli.