Post-op day 11.

In addition to all the other ways to monitor my health, I have the Egg Meter.

I love eggs when I'm well. When I'm sick, or just off in any way, I hate them. The smell alone sets my stomach turning. I can gauge how well I am by my reaction to eggs.

Last year, my roommate in the hospital ordered eggs. It was awful. Think of a smell that makes you sick and imagine it on a plate in your room, inescapable. I remember hiding my nose under the covers and slathering hand cream above my lip in an attempt to avoid the smell. I ended up breathing through my mouth for a while. Thankfully, she was moved to another room and I was saved.

This year, the orthopedics ward was half empty and, by chance, no one had a roommate. My appetite came back quickly and I ordered hash browns and sad off-brand English muffins with butter and jam for breakfast every day. But no eggs.

I had only been home a day or two when I asked for an egg-and-cheese sandwich on a bagel. Now I've eaten three of them. They smell awesome.

HEALTHY, says the Egg Meter.

Tags: dysplasia, happy, health, hospital, left hip, pao, recovery