So, I woke up Wednesday afternoon, and everything was and has been good.

Spent Tuesday in this blissfully strange state of wonder. I stopped and made time for people and they stopped and made time for me. Most folks didn't know about the impending surgery, and it was nice to keep it that way. Matty and I snuck out for lunch and I walked home from the Post Office. It was a gorgeous, warm day.

Tuesday night, Matty and I saw the amazing Marc Atkinson Trio (vintage oriented swing jazz guitar) at the Inyo Council for the Arts across the street. Dr. Beck gave me a CD of the band for the hospital trip. It was lovely to see him smile. He was Matty's pediatrician and is still the family allergist.

I got up at 5 Wednesday morning and made the drive up in the truck, just in time for the beautiful sunrise over Sherwin Summit.

The Mammoth Hospital staff were outstanding and the facilities, especially the operating theater, with its window to the pines outside, snazzy. I got spinal and intravenous anesthesia, which wore off by Thursday morning. Never needed any additional morphine and have been on two 10 mg doses of Oxycontin and around three single doses of Percocet on a daily basis. Morphine. Ugh. It reduced me to a drooling, dry heaving, lump of mashed potatoes. Matt reckons I'm such a control freak that I can't enjoy letting go. Mom on my case for the oxycontin, but as I pointed out, "Mom, they just went in and broke my leg and pinned it back together with a steel plate and screws, they have to give me something." While I have an addiction to things that are bad for me (Spanish chorizo and ham, triple cream cheeses, alcohol, double cappucinos), painkillers aren't going to join the list.

The Foley catheter was FANTASTIC for the two days I was attached to it. I was a good girl and stayed hydrated and won the best peeing patient award. Would have been a bear if I had to get up and use the toilet each time. I have been lucky in the number two department, too. (There is a local septic company with the slogan "Number One in the Number Two" painted on its truck.) Painkillers are notorious for making bowels sluggish.

Dr. Mast was headed off to NZ Friday, the day before I was discharged, and we got to talking about the stalking style fly fishing there, spicy food, and about our travels. He was in the Peace Corps in Nepal in the early days, knew all the expats, and traveled the country extensively. He knew the couple who started the Yak and Yeti bar. I reported that as of 1996, the Yak and Yeti was still there. We talked a bit about Edmund Hillary. Dr. Mast once was invited to the Hillarys' Rana Palace home. There was drinking, and at one point, Hillary climbed the chimney upside down. Ah, sweet drunken blissful and relative youth. Mast asked why we never got to talking about these things before, and I answered that I needed to get on his good side first. I think I am on it now, and he'll be around for the second procedure. Everyone thought I was one of the faster healing patients he's had. So, my relative old age (I am one of his older patients) be damned.

Matty being a domestic goddess. He is cooking, cleaning, and tending. He is taking good care of me and Wyatt. My Dad came for three nights and helped, too. There was a lot of male energy there. I just tried to catch up on more sleep and less leg pain.

First physical therapy session tomorrow.