I'm home again, recovering from my second surgery. I knew it was going to hurt but it knocked me out more than I expected. I thought I'd be back at work today and instead slept until 11am.

Going back to Easter weekend, pre-surgery, I had my neighbours William & Brenda and their adorable little boy Aidan (not quite 2) for dinner and an Easter egg hunt.

A picture of Satchel egg hunting, Jakob with his loot from the Easter Bunny, and finally Jakey playing with Aidan.





While we ate dinner (my first attempt at a pot roast EVER and in a never-before-used slow cooker - I'm hooked), the kids, while playing together, shut the barn door and then it was stuck with Jakob trapped in the kitchen. We take a look to find the barn door broken and off it's tracks. So either Aidan is the most powerful 2 year old in the world or the door was installed incorrectly, lasting only a couple of months and during that time was rarely.

The powder room door no longer opens all the way unless forced and is now gouging the floor and the door leading to the basement barely catches and during the winter doesn't catch at all. The three doors that were "custom" and cost us an absolute fortune all need to be fixed.




Paul left a message for J*** early last week and we were told that Tim would come the following morning to assess what needed to be done - he didn't show. Paul calls J*** to find out where Tim is and he says "yeah, Tim called in sick, I was just about to call you. We'll arrange for tomorrow." So now it's been a week with no Tim and no follow-up from J***. Paul's calling him again today. It will be interesting to see how J*** reacts to follow-up work once he's been paid. Considering what an ass he was at the end of the job, I'm not optimistic.

Next chapter: the surgery.

Last Wednesday I had my 2nd surgery for the reconstruction and as I mentioned before, it hurt a lot. The surgery started an hour late and lasted just over an hour. The nurse that installed my IV did a terrible job and on her second attempt I mouthed "help me" to Paul. Dr. Lipa came in with her team of 3 and marked me up so once again I felt like a nip/tuck episode and you can still see the faint direction and arrow pointing to my navel. Sadly Christian was no where to be found.

The Princess Margaret hospital was fabulous. When I checked in I was directed to a private room to wait until it was time for me to go to pre-op. This was also the room I returned to and spent the night. It was amazing - except for the horrible decor and terrible food, I felt like I was in a hotel room. It was quiet, had a nice western view. Because the surgery wasn't as serious as the last one I wasn't bothered at night with nurses checking my vitals every hour and there was no intercom system where I would hear the paging of nurses or frantic announcements of code blue. I had so many flannel blankets that I stayed cocooned in one position the entire night, alternating between admiring the city view and sleep.

But now I'm home and I'm still sore. My hand is throbbing. My throat is sore - I initially attributed this to the breathing tube during surgery but now I wonder if I'm instead succumbing to something. I wonder if I'm depressed and if that's contributing to my excessive sleeping coupled with the sleep helping with recovery and pain management. Only pajamas and track pants are comfortable so I haven't left the house and can't figure out what I will wear to work.

I finally braved a shower on Saturday and removed all my bandages and saw myself for the first time. I should do it again today and have another shower but even though I've now seen myself, I don't feel brave enough to do it again. I think instead I'll go watch Volver with Penelope Cruz.

Flowers from Paul (with a shot of my 2 sputniks):