Tuesday. Awake again about half an hour before the alarm was due to sound but taking my time to get up and out the door to breakfast. Feel OK after a decent night's sleep. I did take a second pain pill around nine when I turned in, so no midnight awakenings to relieve pressure on the stomach during the night. So good. What the hell? It's all good, we are feeling (comparatively) up. Hup.

Mr. S dropped briefly by the morning café to say hello and wish me well after the operation, nice of him to do that. He's retiring from the Coast Guard this month and I apologized for not responding to the invitation to his retirement dinner. I haven't been responding to anyone's invitation these last several months - now going on years - best for me to think more about that. I could take pictures at the dinner, dress uniforms and all, but do I have a suit that fits?

I do feel good, the aches are manageable. You could say some soreness, but that's like saying the chocolate is slightly less chocolaty, splitting hairs, babbling. No comparison to what was happening at the end of last week. Now what to do with the morning?

Later. Maybe a reality check is needed. In remaking my haircut appointment while talking with my barber she asked what aftereffects I might expect from the gall bladder removal and I repeated the upbeat story relayed by the surgeons. Hmm. Maybe take a look on the web to see what others have to say and indeed there were entries from what looked to be authoritative sources. The image I got was, well, many people have no problems after a short or longer period of adjustment, but then again some do.

And?

The ones who do must avoid many of the foods I've been eating for these last several years: ice cream, raw fruit, meat, grains, fried foods, chocolate, alcohol, caffeine, fats, grains, milk, eggs, dairy and many others. Which means, if I'm part of the smaller group who show problems (diarrhea is high on that list, something I was hoping a bit of which might make things more regular around here), I'm going to have to totally change my diet. But we'll see. We always do.

Does that mean your surgeons didn't quite tell you the truth?

Surgeons operate. Every problem in their world is solved by cutting. They don't lie, they just emphasize the positive (from a surgeon's point of view).

And so?

We'll know how this will go in another week or so. Ho-ho.

A walk over to see what was happening at the apartment house construction site, the crew still putting rebar in place, some to finish the floor, some setting up what look to be outer cement supporting walls and interior columns. Still lots of rebar, still lots of cement to pour. I wonder if playing with an erector set as a kid leads you to this kind of stuff when you grow up? Anyway, pictures.

Later still. Minor aches and pains but taking another of the pain pills before heading out over to the lake to get some air. Why suffer minor aches pains if you can arrange for none? Or just a few? Anyway, a walk along the shore to sit at one of the benches taking but one picture, a walk then back by the construction site, most of the workers gone, some few finishing up placing rebar for the round to come.

Back now to do what? I must admit reading the various gall bladder comments and the way the body can react to its removal has me paying attention to the stomach and the intestines. Am I experiencing precursors to diarrhea in the near future? Eggs this morning? Any reaction? Thai noodles microwaved in a cup for lunch? Are they on the to be avoided list? I will become tired of this soon enough.

But so far, so good.

So far, so good. I'm not thinking I necessarily have to fall into the group that develop problems. Actually I'm not sure I'm thinking.

An optimist.

More a lack of imagination. As said: we'll know soon enough.

Evening. OK, no odd rumblings from the stomach, feel pretty good, still a little sore even with the Vicodin, but nothing to complain about. We'll probably take another one when we get to bed.

Nothing on television. A Korean soap that's marginally tolerable, but again, not one I'm willing to admit I've ever watched. The International Mystery series at nine is an Italian detective series and I've learned to avoid Italian detectives. Their attempts at humor are too broad and hokey in too many ways without my wincing/bitching. My problem.

So let's look at the guitar and continue with last week's lesson. The sequences for this week are simple, which is fine, but the only way to come up to speed with simple is to repeat them ad infinitum. Gives you a much better appreciation for they mean by ad infinitum.