It's befitting that on my birthday I wanted to reminisce about my days at CPMC and how painful my recovery was. I guess it's so that I can be grateful for my recovery and distract myself from the fact that I'm another year older. So back at CPMC, 24 hours after delivery, every fiber of my being was in pain. My body was sore from delivery, my guess was that world war III took place around all my lady parts, and it took every ounce of energy I had to brace my body up out of bed, to hobble on over to the bathroom to use the facilities...which is just a sad and sorry sight. I guess it's a preview to what I have to look forward to in my senior years.
So there's this cream that they give you on pad, to wipe on your booty to soothe the DISCOMFORT, and it is a dream cream. I asked for more, and they said that they can only give it to me twice a day. WHAT??? Forget the ice packs, hot packs, doughnut pillow, I WANT THAT CREAM. Can they write me a prescription for it? I thought it was nurses being difficult, I mean come on, it's a cream, they're suppose to be in the business of helping patients, no? So I ask the doctor the next morning. Get this, they can't write me a prescription for it, but they can give me a little bit more on the hospital version of tucks pads for later. They can't because the cream is a narcotic with cocaine in it! So, in all my years, I have never done any drugs, a cigarette has never graced my lips, and all I've had is an occasional drink and now I'm like a junkie begging the doctor for more ass crack? Motherhood did change me.
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