Was that those miserable post-surgery feelings were perfectly normal, borne out by our own experience or those with loved ones. It was not “wussing out,” and it’s good you had a place to vent them.

More than one surgeon has actually warned us about them. One said “for about three weeks after the surgery you’re going to think this was the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. That will pass.”

Sounds like your kidneys are working like champs. Nothing to sneeze at in an infection scenario.

Now for the good news, at least as far as I’m concerned. I’ve discovered a new treatment regimen and am feeling better all the time.

(Warning: Graphic description follows. Reader disgression advised.)

First, I pee. Then I drink some juice and go back to bed. Read for 5 to 15 minutes and fall asleep. Wake up in an hour or so, with a strong urge to pee. Get up, pee, drink some juice, go back to bed, read for 5 to 15 minutes, fall asleep, wake up in an hour or so, and so on.

Three days of that, continuous, night and day, and I’m feeling better. Not strong but stronger, not great but better, more cheerful and can see there is an end to this. Have been to the Dr. and picked up juice, otherwise it’s just pee, read, etc. Plan on another week of that. Have people who have offered to come by and help, right now don’t want the interruption, have to direct (“Where does this go?”), am going to pee, drink juice, etc., as long as I can still sleep.

Doc says some more stuff has to come out in a week or so and I’ll feel even better. I just wish there were some other exit.

I’ve found a treatment regimen which seems to work. I’ll post it at the tip.

And thanks!

Second, what I was trying to say in my last post, in my addled way, was that this has happened before, matters always look grim, and it’s important to hunker down, endure the unpleasantry and shut up until one starts to feel better. It will happen, the reserves will build up, the body and mind will recover. Then surface.

The only part where there is a “give up” is where one drags off much like a dog, rests, and focuses on himself. Sleeps, stares, scratches, sleeps.

In my first post I over-reacted, lost perspective and got scared. I have to admit the reserves aren’t as deep as I’ve gotten older. I should have just shut up.

I’m fine. Not fine, but certainly on a predictable path. I’m very lucky, I have all I need to wait this out, build myself up and understand the depression couldn’t be more normal and irrelevant. That’s what I was trying to convey second.

It’s not as if this hasn’t happened before. I just wasn’t as old, my only excuse. Thanks for your concern. It means more than I can say even if I had the guts to say it.

Now back to the important part: me. I have a huge amount of (selfish) residual anger towards my mom for bowing out in that way. There was a large family full of people who loved her and miss her. Several grandkids who adored her and who were heartbroken.

Now back to the true important part: you. You are important. The world will be a drearier place without you. Don’t be an ass.

Now this situation wasn’t that bad, just seems that way. I’m older, not dead, not dying, simply weaker without the depth I used to have. Less resilience, less perspective, a natural outcome of successfully aging. And I forgot rule #1. Never let ‘em see you sweat. Very important.

Go off, lick your wounds, stare at the wall, ceiling, sleep, eat something no matter how little, and do it some more until the holes are plugged, and the reservoirs start to fill. Take however long. No phone calls you don’t want,no nothing you don’t want. When you can’t avoid “them”, be polite, be firm, stall, follow all medical advice, take your pills, stay warm. Recover your perspective, recover your attitude, recover your ability to reason with them.

Remember, at the sign of a weakness they want to do something. And that could be The Home. They like The Home, they can feel they are doing something. You don’t need The Home, you need solitude to endure the emptiness and hollowness until it goes away. Which it always has and will again.

Time is your ally. Emulate that great healer, The Dog. Lay around, lick your wounds, move every once in a while, sleep, stare, scratch, sniff, sleep.

And above all, do not react too soon. It’s never that bad, and if it is, no one wants to hear it. This is an especially bad time of year for The Home. Thanksgiving, with little pilgrims coming around acting cute, a scoop of pumpkin ice cream for which one is supposed to be falling down, wet your pants grateful (Let me out of here and I’ll buy a gallon of the stuff!) and that’s followed up by the Big Event.

Christmas! Carolers, Jesus, Mary and Joseph (How dumb was he? “Hey big guy, your wife doesn’t want anything to do with you, that’s The Big Guy she’s been messing with, it’s OK. Get the picture? Or do you want a few of the boys to paint another one for you? We can do that, though it might be awhile before you can actually see it if you know what I mean.”

I suppose if you get a high school choir or one from a local church you could abbreviate things by yelling “TAKE IT OFF, TAKE IT ALL OFF!!” But it’s best to not wind up there in the first place.

And that means riding out the first few days or week after the crisis quietly, stoically. That doesn’t mean you don’t recognize on the inside you are one twisted dude, that means presenting a placid facade until you have one you can manage.

And it means feeling warm and friendly about the podrock, FrankC, alcaray, TB, and Jody. Nice people, nice messages.

Anyway, broken arm, broken clavicle, bruised lung, bruised kidney, ruptured spleen — no spleen now…

Week in the hospital. Got out and did stupid shit. 4 days later, back in for another week.

…That was 1978. Your current predicament sounds familiar.

Exercise, but do not over-extend yourself. Geeze, bowser, by now, we’re supposed to be smarter than this. Absolute kid-gloves for the next few months. K-I-D – G-L-O-V-E-S. the slightest emergency is now critial. For the next bit of a while, ER will become a friend. They may even get to know you by sight.

You’re not mowing the lawn, you’re not raking leaves, you’re not even cooking meals, you’re not doing a damned thing. Well, you’d better not. If you have to go shopping, as I did for last Christmas, just after my heart surgery, do not go alone, and an electric rider-cart is not a bad way to do it.

…Well, I got my niece a nice gift, but there was no way I was gonna exert myself wrapping it…

B, are you alone in the house? If so, for this rough period, get someone trustworthy to move in with you, or go stay with someone, hopefully someone mature enough to yell at you and get you back into bed.

Old-age. Most of us are surprised by its arival, usually getting pushed into it from behind, and by someone younger, possibly brighter, but so often we fall into from an unexpected medical emergency.

Take a few deep breaths, bowser. Relax. Watch a little Gilligan. …And do type. We just wanna keep you around, that’s all.

Cheers to all here.

I have friends who have had even minor surgeries get complicated by infections. You should be tracking this with a doctor on a day-to-day basis, with frequent testing and probably antibiotic regimes.

The physical stuff of the operation (incisions and the like) will get better every day. Hang in there.