My binder is hurting my armpits. Pound cake is yummy.
I'm doing okay. I'm tired. It's hard to sleep on your back all of the time. I have hand grenades (drains) in my boxer band. I'm uncomfortable, but not in pain. Narcotics are the devil. I stopped taking them the night of surgery. I never thought I could burp so hard that I threw up, but I did. More than once.
Here's the truth: the worst part is having to wear a binder.
The Christmas cactus bloomed!
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