Clearly there's not a lot of sympathy out there in Blog Reader Land for a newly neutered blogger judging by the comments of the last couple of days.
I'm hanging my hopes on Dave's words of encouragement, and choosing to disregard the cynicism of the Full Quiver, though I can't quite get rid of that voice over the PA, "Mess to clean up in aisle 9". Sorry, it is a bit of an in-joke but if I explained you'd probably be nauseous.
Yes Cara I appreciate that in the over-all scheme of things, the women cop the rough end of the pain deal, but, if you had just kept your hands off the fruit tree back in the beginning things would have been very different! And The Heir should show a little more respect and gratitude for the fact he was conceived before this event or else he'd be nowhere, let alone swanning around England in funny hats!
I stayed in bed most of the morning, it seemed to be the safest place for me. I had to go to work for a Country Week meeting at lunchtime but I was moving slowly and gingerly. Everyday activities are awkward and painful, even sitting is hazardous, being an activity that requires a great deal more planning and care than normal, and walking is a slow and deliberate affair. Coughing, blowing my nose and sneezing are all dangerous and laughing is a health hazard. You don't realise how connected everything is until one part is altered, it sets off a chain reaction and everything's affected.
I had foolishly hoped that I would make a swift and painless recovery within 24 hours and be jumping around on the volleyball court by tonight. Ha! Not likely! I was reduced to the role of spectator, the 2nd game in a row I've missed following last week's delayed return from Perth.
At least this week we had a win, although the gestapo volleyball committee have deducted 2 premiership points because we were not in uniform!!!! Don't get me started on that chestnut again!!!!
Explaining my state of incapacitation to the three kids at home brought mixed reactions.
Jordan recoiled and said, "I wish you hadn't told me that"!
Favourite Daughter, wondering why I was unable to pick her up from work, when told the reason, asked "What's that?"
Clearly there were a few pages missed in her birds and bees education!
"It's an operation to stop me being able to have any more children" I explained.
"Why did you do that? So you don't have any more children?"
and then an odd follow-up question, "Did it cost much?"
I have no idea why she asked that, and was in too much discomfort to pursue the matter any further.
Sport Boy asked what was wrong and I said I'd had a little operation and was sore.
"Where was it?" he asked naively.
"On my scrotum"
Hmm, further evidence of inadequate sex education!
Once he was in the picture he was typically concerned and tender, saying he'd like to have a snuggle but didn't want to hurt me.
Fast forward 18 hours to soccer training this afternnon.
Sport Boy came over to me and said matter-of-factly, "Don't worry, I've told them you can't run around or kick today because of your operation".
Warning bells start sounding!
"What did you tell them?" I queried
"That you had an operation on your scrotum."
Look of discomfort and surprise on my face!
"Don't worry, none of them knew what it was"!!!!
"Well, that was a bit personal and private mate"!
He was off kicking the soccer ball before I'd even had time to consider how a bunch of 9 year olds would comprehend this idea.
Seems it didn't phase them, or raise the slightest interest because nobody mentioned it.
I was relieved!