Pain, Paws, and Potions: Recovering from Surgery in a Witch’s Den

Pain, Paws, and Potions: Recovering from Surgery in a Witch’s Den

By Darklady – Shadow Witch of the Soft Ice Pack

Let’s talk about the real spellwork of healing — not the pretty Instagram witchcraft with rose petals and crystal grids. I’m talking about post-op shadow majick, where your knee is stitched like a patchwork spell scroll and your familiar has an open anal gland wound and absolutely no sense of personal space.

Welcome to my cauldron of chaos.

---

🩼 Physical Therapy: The Modern-Day Torture Ritual

So I had my first PT session.

Apparently, straightening your leg to 0° is a big deal — like unlocking a boss-level rune. I did it. Nailed it. Gold star on the dark altar.

But when they asked me to bend it, my knee laughed and said, “Absolutely not, witch.”

I hit 85°, and they want 90°. I’ll get there — but probably not without profanity and the threat of hexing.

---

😾 Meanwhile, in Familiar Hell…

Casper, my beautiful, cursed little boy, had his anal gland cut open. Left to heal like some sort of raw open demon gate.

The vet says “It’ll heal beautifully!” I say, “Why does he keep trying to drag his bacterial butt over my blankets?!”

And let’s not forget the other cats trying to get in to see their sick brother, scratching and yawling at the door.

I’m in a full biohazard lockdown while Casper’s howling for cuddles, and I’m just trying to keep my knee from exploding.

---

🧹 Healing Spells (aka: Not Crying While Cleaning the Litter Box)

I’ve got an air purifier in the room.

I’ve got barriers on my bed.

I’ve got trauma in my soul.

Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I scream into a pillow. Sometimes I laugh so hard it hurts, because this is truly the most fucked-up healing process I’ve ever been through, and I’ve walked through fire before — literally and metaphorically.

But here I am. Still witching. Still walking (well, hobbling).

Still protecting my stitches like they’re the last page of a forbidden grimoire.

---

💀 Final Thoughts

If you’re a witch recovering from surgery — with needy familiars, a chaotic home, and no rest in sight — you are not alone.

You are the shadow that heals in the dark.

You are the tear-streaked, cat-covered spellcaster who keeps going anyway.

And when this is over? You’re going to be stronger, darker, and more dangerous than ever.

Now excuse me while I go ice my knee and hiss at anyone who tries to sit on me.

—

Subscribe monthly at darkwitchery.com for spells, sarcasm, and shadow majick — even when your leg doesn’t bend.