"Reality continues to ruin my life."
That's unfortunately how I feel today. My first night after surgery was greatly troubled by the world's worst roommate and her angry boyfriend. The nurses kept riling him up by asking him to leave, and then leaving themselves, so that I was alone on the other side of the curtain wondering when he would decide that they were probably asking him to leave because I had complained about the blaring television at 1 a.m. My second night was nonstop vomiting, although at home this time. I feel sad and unmotivated. And it's completely awful. I don't have cancer! It wasn't cancer, and I thought for sure I could handle anything if I could just get that news. Instead, I feel like Calvin. I'd feel so great if it weren't for reality.
A friend today told me that the third day is always the worst. Today is technically the fourth day after surgery, but yesterday might have been worse. So maybe tomorrow will be better. Otherwise, my poor surgeon, whom I usually adore, is going to get an earful. If only I could lift the stupid snowball.
I wrote a post just before surgery about reality t.v. I'll post it now just below this one. It goes along with the reality theme and will cheer us both up - what with this post being all gloom and doom.