It has been more than three weeks since surgery, a little over halfway through my doctor-prescribed surgical recovery and restrictions. So far as I can tell, my recovery from the surgery itself seems perfect. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel when my restrictions will fall away, and I am desperate to get back on my board and stretch out the muscles that tighten a little more each day.
The serum sickness is still there with aches during the day that stay manageable so long as I keep moving around. But in the late afternoon/early evening, the pain starts to settle back in like an old friend. By the end of the evening, my back, my knees, my ankles, my wrists last night — but that one was new — all feel shredded. My doctor prescribed weeks more of steroids and painkillers, but I am not interested in those. Luckily my resolve to not fill those prescriptions is stronger during the day when the pharmacies are open. I question the decision every night when I can no longer walk without pain, but then I wake up the next morning, again thinking it’s going to be a better day.
There isn’t so much online in terms of anecdotes about serum sickness — and I think it’s likely an issue of the fact that no really gets diagnosed with serum sickness. It’s a guess when all the other obvious things — like rheumatoid arthritis, lupus, etc — get ruled out and nothing more makes sense. What there are a lot of, however, are stories of shared symptoms, pain that comes back at night, and a discouraging time-frame that makes me think I am in this for the long haul.
So I’m ignoring the aches and pains as best I can, and I’ve got my eye on all the things that will get better and will change as I get deeper into my recovery — like my restriction on swimming, which makes G the designated swim parent right now. Normally that wouldn’t be an issue — Guy usually spends all his pool time in the shallow end by the fountains, where I can easily play referee, but on our last trip this past weekend, he was all about all of the pool — including all of the slides.
But just look at the sheer happiness on Guy’s face hanging out in the deep end with Daddy:
I think his fountain days are done.