You Boomers will have heard of Three Dog Night. Well, my post-op routine involves a Three Bed Night that goes something like this:
I adjust my sling, pop four ibuprophen and a Lunesta and assume the position in my regular bed. It’s only a few minutes until my shoulder starts squawking. I’ll listen for a while to be polite and see what’s new.
When I’ve had enough, I slip out of bed, trying not to wake Susan, and slide into the small recliner for a nap. A decent one lasts two or three hours. The narrow seat doesn’t allow for the tossing and turning that’s good for sleep but bad for a tendon repair.
Whenever I wake up I transfer to the big recliner, which is a bit roomier but still keeps me strictly supine. I have a traveling blanket and pillow I take with me, along with a warm pair of socks. Sometimes I walk around with my arm free to stretch out the kinks.
This nocturnal migration is driven by the pain in my shoulder. It should last another few weeks based on my previous experience. This time around, though, instead of my three stops being in different parts of the house, I have all my resting places in one room.
We suffer . . . we learn . . . we adapt.