If you asked me what I was looking at right now, I'd say that I'm currently looking through an airport Burger King and out the window at a sunny desert framed by large, sandy mountains.

I went from having surgery last week to being in Las Vegas.

It's been a weird week.

My surgery took place early Friday afternoon (and my doctor was fashionably late which did nothing to curb my anxiety) and within 4 or so hours I was back at my house, passed out in bed without a care in the world. I was so groggy from anesthesia that I slept for 15 hours straight, only waking up once to eat a few spoonfuls of chicken noodle soup and watch the first 10 minutes of Bring It On: All or Nothing (you know, the awesomely bad straight-to-DVD sequel).

Since both of my legs were wrapped in bulky bandages, I wasn't allowed to shower and pants were like, really hard. I had to wear my baggiest sweatpants and pretend like baby wipes were an adequate substitute for soap and water. I know I looked a hot mess.

Clayton left to get my prescriptions and thought he had left me tucked safely in bed. However, the second he left and I tried to close my eyes, my neighbor decided it was the PERFECT time to start working on his boat engine. I'm not sure what boat engines entail, but for whatever reason it required revving the motor at ridiculously loud decibels for MINUTES at a time. My bedroom window was rattling. I could literally feel the engine pulsating in my soul.

Now, I'm normally content to seethe in the privacy of my home or at the very least, write a super passive aggressive note to our HOA, but I was on some drugs and feeling the most tired I've ever been in my entire life. Not being able to sleep was NOT an option.

I staggered out of my house, half dressed and in all of my bandaged, post-op glory. My hair was half in a messy bun and half not, my hospital bracelet was still on my wrist, I had on no shoes, my sweatpants somehow got tucked into my bandages, and I was clutching the envelope of a get-well card that my brother and sister-in-law sent me (not the card, just the envelope).

I waddled down the sidewalk to this guy's house and stood at the foot of his driveway. He was too busy tinkering with his engine to look up (and he obviously could not hear me over the sound of his boat motor exorcising demons). So I walked all the way up his driveway and stood next to him while he fiddled with a screw driver.

"Um ... could you please NOT?" I shouted as loud as possible.

Oh my gosh, I startled him so bad! I partly felt bad for scaring him, but I mostly felt satisfied because this guy works on one of his many vehicles all day and all night to the point that Clayton and I joke that he must not like his family because he is never inside his house. I'm sorry, but I wasn't sorry.

"Hi. Ya. I just had surgery and I realllllllllllly need to sleep," I whined when he cut the boat engine.

He apologized profusely and immediately stopped working. I made some half-assed apology for interrupting his work, but then thanked him several times for giving me a few hours of quiet so I could sleep off my surgery.

Anesthesia really emboldens me.

I spent the weekend recouping at home and only left the house once so Clayton could let me hobble around the mall like a wounded soldier. My doctor stressed that I needed to be active and walk to promote healing and other doctorly stuff concerning my newly closed veins.

Going through something like surgery was definitely a reminder that I'm cared for, a LOT. Prior to my procedure, I got several texts of well wishes and talked to both of my parents before I went in. After surgery my sweet brother and sister-in-law delivered a pot of mums and the aforementioned card. My best friend made me cupcakes and brought bacon (I know, right!??). And one of my other best gal pals brought me a vase of beautiful roses and made Clayton and I dinner. I feel so lucky.

Recovery from venous ablation is pretty easy (or so I've heard). The procedure itself is minimally invasive and the down time is next to none. What threw my body for a loop was the removal of the varicose veins that left my legs pretty sore and bruised. I had veins removed on the backs of my knees and the surgical staples made it quite uncomfortable to bend and move (Clayton may or may not have had to lower me onto the toilet a few times).

The other day I found what I thought was a little string from my clothes near one of the incisions. I pulled on it, but quickly learned it was attached to the inside of my body and damn near fainted. I didn't know I had stitches and Clayton had to spend a solid ten minutes assuring me that it was actually a stitch and not one of my veins hanging out of my body. ("Court, they don't just leave veins hanging out of patients. This guy went to medical school for Pete's sake.")

I'm honestly a little surprised by how sore my legs are one week out. I'm hoping it's just from the bruises and their location along the bend of my legs and from those surprise stitches trying to dissolve. Sometimes trying to find a comfortable sleeping position is hard and sitting for a long period of time makes my legs REALLY uncomfortable when I try to stand back up.

The doctor asked me to walk as much as possible, but I cannot run for two weeks. It's been exactly 7 days of no running and it's killlllllllllllllling me. My legs already feel lighter and more energized and I'm practically chomping at the bit to get out there and see if this surgery helped my terrible running streak. I'm trying to be patient, but it's really hard. Simply walking and lifting light weights is not enough for this girl.

Surprised I was cleared to fly less than a week after surgery? Me too. But I told it was fine as long as I continued to wear these babies:

Yup, taking my flesh-colored thigh-high compression stockings across the country. Ugh.

Okay, my flight is getting ready to board and if I don't get a window seat, I will start a riot.

I'll update you on my Vegas trip in a future post.

Have a great weekend!