A Day of Visitors After Surgery

The rain hit my window outside and the dark sky showed no signs of getting lighter. It was by all means a dreary day. Before long my husband and mother-in-law came with fresh croissants from the bakery. Getting visitors after surgery is nice, but tiring.

My Mother-In-Law

We talk and, when my husband leaves the room briefly, my mother-in-law insists that I partake in her religious healing procedure. She has offered this to me on numerous other occasions, but I have always thanked her and said, “no.”

I’ve asked her to stop offering them to me but that has never held her back – today was no exception. The only difference is that today I am too tired to argue with her, and I let her do it. I swallow my frustration during the entire thing only to learn later that she promised Richard she wouldn’t mention or try any of her procedures on me.

Visitors After SurgerySo much for that. All I can do is concentrate on the fact that she means well and as soon as I’m better I’ll be able to say no again – which is guaranteed to be a much sharper no.


Not long after my mother-in-law leaves, several of my friends come by.

We laugh and talk about random topics. The time flies by and I relax in their company. As evening comes, they leave, and I realize the entire Sunday has gone by.

I feel so much better than I did this morning staring out at the rain. Do people know how wonderful it is to get visitors?


With the drainage tube removed in the afternoon, the pain in my abdomen is minimal. My shoulder, however, is harboring pain that’s becoming unbearable. “It comes from the gas they use in your abdomen during the ectopic pregnancy surgery to expand the abdominal wall away from the organs so the surgeons can see what they are doing,” explains the nurse matter-of-factly.

Fortunately, she has a pain medication for this. She also said walking around helps. So, up I was. Richard helps me out of bed and takes my hand as we venture out into the hall to walk off my pain. With a slow pace we walk down the hall.

We reach the end of the hall and as I look up at the doors. I can’t believe the sign that is staring me in the face. “Only authorized personnel and pregnant woman past this point.” I feel like someone just punched me in the stomach.

“I guess we can’t go through those doors,” I say sarcastically.

Richard looks at the sign and sighs. We turn around to go back to my room without saying a word.

Worn Out

It’s only 7:00 p.m. when we get back to my room, but my body is showing signs it’s tired. Richard sees my exhaustion and suggests I try to sleep. I realize I’m already dozing off.

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