Complaining

I'm bored. I got up this morning and did dishes and Bob yelled at me, so I went back to bed and slept until just a little bit ago.
My left arm and hand are swollen. I slept with them propped up and the swelling went down but as soon as I started moving around again, they puffed up again. That's on the list of "Things to Watch For" given by the hospital. The last thing I want to do is go back to get checked out. But it's disconcerting.
I haven't started my reorganization of photos yet, though it would be a perfect job for laying in bed. However, taking 1 vocodin every 2 hours is successfully keeping me in such a state of spaciness, I really can't do much Seriously. You have no idea how long it's taken me to write these three paragraphs.
My dreams on vicodin are crazy and I've had bits of Schoolhouse Rock songs stuck in my head for days as well.
The thing that bothers me most is that I know this isn't the end. I have at least one more surgery coming up and then a whole bunch of trial and error tests to try to get my hormone levels correct, which I can only imagine is going to be hell. I have issues with hormones as it is. I hate trial and error. It can go on forever and you're never sure if you have it just right. It just stretches out before me as months of not feeling right.
I hate that Bob misses so much work because of me. At least 1/2 of his vaca days have been used on me - because I've been sick. I feel like some sort of invalid or leech. I'm a drain on his society, his wallet, his life. And I've saddled him with 4 kids. I just hate it. I hate sitting in bed doing nothing, I hate feeling like crap and not pulling my own weight. I hate having all of this affect his life in such negative ways. And to top it all off, things are probably going to suck for the foreseeable future.
They really ought to add vicodin to the spelling list so it doesn't keep getting highlighted.
I hope at least my body is healed by the time the weather warms up. My plans have been to turn off the TV and computers and everything with a screen and go outside. But I don't want to just sit out there reading a book, I want to clean up the backyard and move rocks and pull weeds and trim trees and such. It's just so hard for me to sit still and do nothing.
I feel incredibly guilty about Bob's level of care and attention to me. I don't deserve it in the least. It makes all this even harder. I don't really like anyone having to take care of me, but he has reasons not to and he does anyway. It's a very hard pill for me to swallow. It's not that I don't appreciate it - I do. But I probably don't appreciate it as much as I should - selfish being that I am.
Ug. I just wish I could make everything right.
And I still want another baby. I ache I want one so badly. But it will take a true miracle for a baby boy to be given to us in a way that we can afford.
I need to sleep. Damn these drugs. I love that they take away the pain, but they've reduced my brain to absolute mush.