Today is 14 days post-op, and things are fine. I'm feeling pretty good, and have no special problems walking or managing steps (though I tire pretty quickly). I still wince when sitting down, a bit less when getting up.
The two halves of my incision seem to be knitting together; for a while, I seriously worried that my belly could "fall apart" once the staples came out. Fortunately, that didn't happen, and I do feel better since they came out last Tuesday: they had been sort of "catching" occasionally on my shirt. The swelling has receded, but not totally. The pants I couldn't close upon returning home do close now, but they're snug; just before the surgery, they were loose.
The only real mistake I made involved a little experiment I conducted last week--
OBJECTIVE: To see if I could sleep on my left side (the side of the surgery).
RESULTS: Ouch! Dumb, dumb, dumb. I ruined at least one night of sleep, and since then have had some back and side pain during the day, and more so at night. Happily, last night I tried to sleep on the right side, and succeeded.
I'm remembering not to lift too much. But I discovered something else: it can be hard to tear open plastic packages—the action of pulling is painful. Be careful.
My appetite has not returned. As before, I can eat when I have to, but never feel hungry. I've also had a few momentary episodes of mild nausea and borderline light-headedness.
I'd say the biggest change, though, involves my mood. I'm atypically subdued and un-excitable (this is particularly striking when compared with my recipient: a bouncy sort of fellow even before the surgery, since then he has been getting even bouncier from one day to the next [we speak daily]). Partly, this is physical—I tire easily, and don't really have the strength to get too excited. Another factor is that since the surgery, (miraculously) I've been insulated from office pressures. But I think it's more because my nervous energy is gone. This is not a negative sense of let-down. Instead, it's a positive sense of tranquility and completion. I'd been consumed with planning, organizing, and researching my donation for so long. Now, I'm no longer living with the sense that, if I fail to lose that last kilo or two, or if my blood pressure goes up a little, I'm basically helping kill a sick kidney patient. I did my part, and it's really out of my hands. At least until I return to work (possibly in another week), I'm just sort of floating in neutral. Just not having a packed daily schedule to manage is a shocking (but not unpleasant) sensation.
Finally, two miscellaneous observations:
1) I think the last time my creatinine was measured was the morning after surgery (it was 1.04), when I was still on the catheter. I'm due for my first follow-up appointment in about three months. Is this a long time to go without another creatinine check?
2) I thought I was so clever to buy a pair of Crocs (well, okay, the $5.50 plastic imitation version) for the hospital. Not only would they grip the floor well, but I could use them in the shower. It turns out I was only half right. They're great for walking, but the chief nurse warned me not to bring them into the shower, because they get slippery when wet. They also take up a fair amount of space in the small case I brought to the hospital.
Be well, Snoopy