Poor, poor John. In the hospital, and for a couple of weeks after he got home, he had to take this one medication every four hours, around the clock. He really, really hated having to set his alarm and wake himself up for that 2:00am dose every night. He was so, so happy when he had finished up with those pills at last, and would finally be able to sleep through the night again. Or so he thought. Guess who now pops awake at 2:00am almost every night, then can't get back to sleep again? Which means we've both been having some rough nights. I don't really mind it much myself, as long as I have a good book to read. I figure "Hey, I don't have to go to work tomorrow. I can always sleep in or take a nap later if I get tired." But John? Well, it just pisses him off no end. The unFAIRness of it all!
He's also kinda pissed about how weak he still feels, and his lack of energy. He walks through a couple of stores with me, and feels like he has run a couple of miles, which makes it hard for him to enjoy Christmas shopping the way he usually does. (Normally, my hubby loves shopping waaaaaay more than I do!) The doctors warned us that it could take eight months to a year for him to feel like his old self again but, for some reason, I just don't think John actually believed them at the time.