Changing my religion to the gods of antihistamines

It has been a week since surgery, and I am happily home, relaxing on the sofa, and enjoying not setting an alarm to remind me to go to work in the morning.  So, here is the much anticipated summary of my last seven days of pre and post Junior's removal  . . .

Thursday:  My husband and I arrive at the hospital for surgery check-in, and I was pulled in speed-car fast to the semi-private back room to change into the ever flattering hospital gown.  At this point the racing car turned into a racing slug as the nurse working with the initial needle pokes and and vitals could not get any of the electronic equipment to operate.  After a few rounds of differing nurses, it was discovered that restarting the devices solve the issue.  

I was then whisked off the surgery, where I woke up I had a odd cone-head shaped bandage that was removed halfway through the night due to its teenage refusal to stay put.   Other then that the ICU was a very boring and uneventful experience

Friday:  My husband tried to adapt my glasses so I could wear them.  It was unfortunately a lost cause, but I did come out with a black eye from surgery that made it look like I was an epic boxer.  I was happily sent off the regular part of the hospital when a room opened up, and I spent the night listening to the person in another room listening to a something that involved a lot of screaming, blood, and death upon multiple dragons.  

Saturday: Due to the fact that I was fully conscious and doing well, I was lucky enough to be sent home after spending two nights in the hospital without having to worry about needing to plan a memorial for Junior.  May he rest in Indian Jones peace.

Sunday and Monday:  The best thing after being at a hospital . . . taking a shower and sleeping in a bed that did not include dragon killing neighbors.  I was also gifted with a husband that went out bought chicken fries for me, simply because it was a meat that I could eat without having to chew much.  I am viewing those calories gained being okay due to only eating a salad and applesauce while I was spending my brain time at the hospital.  Jello was a no go; I discovered my first night post surgery that when it chooses to leave your stomach it stays the same color.

Tuesday:  A "lovely" breakout of hives begins, and after a visit with my Einstein's haired surgeon I was put on a diet of steroids and benadryl.  The cause of this (just as it was five years ago), is unknown.

Wednesday:  Swelling as gone down enough on my face that while I still cannot wear glasses (staples get in the way), I can now look at my hives by using contacts.  Now it is possible to do a word search without getting pencil lead on my nose!

Thursday:  My hives made the decision resist all treatments and treaties (apply the name of current politician that annoys you here), and I turned into a red, itchy, irritated human that want to peel her skin off like a kid and their presents on Christmas day.  If my skin chooses to stay this bad tomorrow, then my hives and I (try saying that ten times fast), will be headed off for a doctor's visit and attempt to plot them oncoming doom.

My current medical goal - to stop unconsciously itching, and plan an appointment with a allergist that I might just view as a anti-allergy god.