Call Me Lefty

That's me, pre-op. And, yes, since you asked, I have always had something of a flair for dressing. Lots of fancy hospital bling on my left hand, the surgeon's initials and little dots indicating slice here on the right hand. And at over 7 hours post-surg, I feel pretty dandy. Minimal soreness at the site of the incision that is being controlled quite nicely with ibuprofin. Already, the constant ache and burning sensation in my right palm have completely disappeared. People kept asking me my name and birth date over and over again, just to make sure some imposter wasn't trying to sneak in and get my surgery for me. I assured them that my teeth are all mine and firmly attached so they wouldn't attempt to remove them. I suspect that by the time I'm getting mildly adept at being a lefty, I'll have to relearn being a righty so they can fix my left hand. All I know is, this bandage is going to be pretty darn disgusting by the time it's removed on September 24. And my legs are going to be pretty darn hairy. This is going to be fun.