Seriously?

I'd really hoped that almost dying would mean I'd skip my period, but nope, blood on the toilet paper. One day short of seven weeks from my last one, which is not out of normal range, for me. At most, it pushed it back a week or two--and the latter tracks perfectly with me being admitted to the hospital. It's five weeks, almost to the hour, since I came out of the first surgery and stopped dying and started getting better. Bodies are strange.

The real problem is I'm still on blood thinners, so it's probably going to last ten days or something. Ugh. And this is going to make physical therapy twice as hard (except maybe for stretching my Achilles back to normal), because teh uber-bendy dialed up to eleven. And I'm a black hole for calories and just had to ask the nurses for snacks at a quarter past three in the morning, because beef jerky and pretzels wasn't cutting it. (Not sure yogurt and chips will be much better, but at least it's different.) Breakfast is in four hours. I hope I'll sleep. I hope I'll wake up in time to eat it, too.