I had surgery on Monday. I’d never had surgery before. I’m 37 years old. Many of my friends and family said that’s old for your first go at it. I would think 80 wouldn’t be old enough. C’est la vie. This is all in preparation for IVF. My insides are sparkling clean now, as well as minus a tube or two, and I’m ready for the barrel of fun IVF is supposed to be. Word.
Never having had surgery before I assumed (don’t ask me why) I’d be back at the gym in a day or two. Maybe not doing a 200kg leg press, but at least walking or something. Ha. It’s been exercise enough just getting in and out of bed. I’m the sort of gal who sits on the floor. Like, all the time. I have to say, not being able to get on the floor was one of the most frustrating aspects of my week of incarceration in the house. Along with not being able to sneeze, cough, twist, bend, laugh, or blow my nose. Those things were inconvenient too.
Do you know how many episodes of Sopranos you can watch in 5 days? Several seasons worth, that’s how many.
Still, my IVF doctor and her anaesthesiologist were both amazing and I have even more faith in them now as I begin the next step of this adventure.
So, this weekend brings my meditation class, one more season of Sopranos to get through, my stitches out, a photoshoot for a very talented make-up artist friend of mine who has somehow convinced me to be a model, and a dinner party for 4 of our best friends where masterchef CJ is going to cook up a storm.