Post Op Tales – My unexpected guest

Amidst all the chaos of surgery, pain meds, and Halloween, I had an unexpected guest.

Yes.  Her.

my unexpected guest

Aunt Flo showed up Thursday to visit me in my post operative drug induced haze.

Not exactly the post op guest of choice.

Here’s the deal. Our bedroom and master bath are upstairs. I had recently gone through the last of the bathroom stuff that had been packed up during the remodel.  Instead of eight (or more) open containers of feminine products, I consolidated things down to a single drawer.

(In this case, consolidate means I dumped everything out of the packaging and crammed in the drawer to be dealt with later. It wasn’t pretty.)

A drawer in the bathroom.


To state the obvious, it was less than 24 hours after I had knee surgery. I wasn’t climbing stairs.

Normally, there’s a stash under the sink in the downstairs bathroom. So as I’m sitting down I grab my cane and flip the cabinet open to get something from the stash.

Uh. oh.

No stash.

My husband was home taking care of my last Thursday.

We celebrate our 14th anniversary this month.

Until last week, I had sheltered my husband from any of the nuanced knowledge and intricacies involved with using feminine products. He just doesn’t need to know THAT much about that part of my life.

All he knew was that there were the two basic models – the kind with a sticky tab that adheres to clothing and the OTHER kind.

I had to send him to a drawer crammed with mixed brands, mixed models, and mixed levels of absorbency and I had a VERY specific request.

Remember – he’s an engineer.

They like technical details and precision. I’ll spare you the details of the conversation.

He brought me ONE.

One item.

I was expecting him to just pull the drawer out of the cabinet and bring the entire drawer.  If I’d been in his shoes, that’s exactly how I would have solved the problem.  

(Well, technically, I would have found a cute tote and put a sampler pack of product together. But if I was a guy… I would have just pulled the drawer out or something manly like that.)

Instead, he brought me one single solitary item.

Less than two hours later,

I had to ask for another one.

I already brought you one.

Y’all.  I was jacked up on Vicodin.  It took every ounce of brain cell I had left just to deal with my visitor.  And now my husband was questioning why I needed more than one of a feminine product.

Just… don’t ask questions.  Please?

He brought me ONE.

One item.

Apparently, my husband is a slow learner.

An hour later…

Honey, can you just bring me a box of whatever is up there?

At this point, I didn’t care what kind of product it was.  Whatever he handed me would be just fine.  I’m still not sure if that was a Vicodin influence decision or just pure desperation.

So he stomps upstairs and brings down a box.  Luckily for me, it’s one of those assorted packs with more than one color of wrapper.  It wasn’t a new box, so things were a bit jumbled.  Since the box had been crammed into a drawer, it wasn’t exactly rectangular.

Instead of handing me the box while I’m sitting *there* waiting, he walked into the little room and holds the box out like a box of chocolates.

As I reach for an item, he starts pulling out all the excess packaging (like you would remove empty candy wrappers, now that I think of it).  He would NOT get his hand out of the way.  I don’t think he realized that my gross motor skills were drug impaired (they were) but it was awful!

When he was finally done “organizing” the box I thought he’d give me some privacy.  Nope.

He just stood there.


At me.

I took ONE.

One item.

He stood there and started talking to me about some random work thing. I finally had to interrupt him.

You can go now.

He just looked at me blankly for a second and then said

Oh. um… yeah.

Friday night, I managed to climb the stairs and slept in my own bed.  It was pure bliss.  Before I came back downstairs Saturday morning, I took the time to grab a cute tote and fill it.  I am NOT going through that again!

(OK, I’ve struggled for HOURS trying to create art work for this post like I normally do.  I could NOT come up with anything I’d want to see pinned to one of my boards on Pinterest.  I struggled to make this story tasteful and NOT attract unwanted attention from Google.  I give up. No artwork today.)

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Susan Baker
I have a passion for encouraging weary worn out mothers to find joy in everyday motherhood and peace in unlikely places. I have two elementary school boys, one nerdy husband, and two cats. I have a strange fascination for bad puns, the color pink, socks, and books. I worry about running out of toilet paper, wine, and chocolate.. I serve an amazing God. I live an ordinary life filled with wonder.
Susan Baker
Susan Baker

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  1. Hilarious! Not your struggle to get just the right products that you needed but your struggle to write the post in such a way as to not attract unwanted google eyes or drawings pinned for all posterity.
    Hope your recuperation proceeds without further inconveniences!
    Mo recently posted..Choosing A Wine Based On The NameMy Profile

  2. Oh, boy! That’s the last thing you need when you’re recovering from surgery! Aunt Flo has the worst timing!
    Patty recently posted..How Often Should You Grocery Shop?My Profile

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