Monday night, on Dr. Kuflik’s approval, Mick took a prescription sleep aid at bedtime. It did not, alas, enable him to sleep through the night, but it did seem to improve somewhat the quality of the sleep he got. It snowed all day so there was no outside walk. (We live in an alter-cocker-heavy neighborhood, so for the past couple of days when we’ve gone out, Mick’s been by far the tallest, youngest, and best-looking of the slow-moving masses, but today everybody and their nurses stayed home.)
Mick didn’t feel as good today as he did Monday. Perhaps he’d overextended himself yesterday, perhaps it was because he wasn’t able to take a walk today, or perhaps (blogger’s opinion) it was just part of the inevitable peaks and valleys of recovering from surgery of this magnitude. He’s had no appetite at all, an unfortunate effect of the pain medication, but we’ve discovered that if you cook something he likes and put it in front of him, he’ll eat it. So that’s what we’ve been doing.
Still, our boy is doing well, channeling his cabin fever into an ongoing effort to rearrange everything in this apartment that’s light enough for him to lift.
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