Some days you can either cry into your pillow, or you can be Batman.

Okay so maybe I'm not coping so well with all these health shenanigans. I'm a week out of hospital now and still a mess.

Those who followed on FB will know my week of hospital testing was not the smoothest of runs. Rather than bore you with it all, here's a quick synopsis.

• I left 3kgs lighter thanks to food services who couldn't cope with my dietary intolerance and allergy issues. Fasting each day for a repeatedly cancelled MRI didn't help matters along either.
• When I finally went for my MRI I discovered that medazelam doesn't work on me. Survived thanks to many tears and "So Humming" the hell out of my meditation techniques. 
• A post-op heart attack scare which led to an unplanned night with my roomie Lois, who thought an Islander christening was going on behind the curtain next to her bed. All. Night. Long. 
• Another discovery that despite a bright red hospital wristband and personally speaking to the neurosurgeon, anaesthetist and head nurse during pre-op, you still wake up covered in bright red welts from the adhesives you told them you were allergic to, but they used anyway. 
• And then there's that bucket load of pain thanks to three large incisions in my leg and belly.

Now one week later I am stuck in bed with an infected ankle (sural nerve biopsy) incision, widespread numbness (expected) and spots of near permanent electric shocks (not so expected, or fun). My thigh (open muscle biopsy) still black, with new and exciting levels of bruising coming out. tearing of the wound when I move, plus electric shocks radiating from the site (again, this does not fall high on the fun metre). And a stomach (fat biopsy) incision that, like the other two, refuses to heal.

To add insult to injury I missed my son's 18th birthday dinner last night so now I feel like a super shit mum to boot. A tear or two may have been shed into my pillow last night.

Of course I am dealing with all this in the most mature way.

Conversation with youngest son today:

Me: I'm staying in the Batcave today, Bud.
Son: Why don't you put on [other son's] Batman costume and we can take pictures?
Me: Why not?

And the result?

Some days you can either cry into your pillow, or you can be Batman.

Today, "I'm Batman".

Cheers
Michelle :)

PS I'd like to say it's Alfred's day off, but really my bedroom hasn't been cleaned in a long time.
PPS I have discovered that having a bedroom where every wall, ceiling, carpet and fixtures are 80's salmon pink is not really conducive to healing or my mental health. If I start writing REDRUM all over the blog, blame the salmon colour scheme. The 80's really do have a lot to answer for.