I don’t want this to turn into one of those posts where I just complain at all of you about things that you don’t want to hear about and have no control over. But I have very little to talk about except the fact that despite my upgrade to a post surgical bland diet and the ability to eat food like flan I still have had one crappy week where I haven’t felt good for longer than an hour at a time and only then because I took more medicine than was advisable.
I don’t really know what to do or why I’m writing to the internets, like some grand pull of strength from the world wide web could somehow heal me; I can only physically endure so much discomfort, only so much of not being able to pick up my daughter, and only so much of asking my Mom to fetch me things that I need, before I have to start venting about it to the world at large.
Today we were going to try to go out to lunch, out while the exterminator came to destroy our new wasp population (it’s all fun and games here). But after attempting to get out of bed multiple times I gave up and barely made it out to sit on my porch while the man with the noxious chemicals dispersed them throughout the house.
To add a little salt to the already fetid wound, I got the first bill from the hospital – I’m pretty sure that common decency requires that they give you enough time to properly heal before asking you for money.
Again, I don’t know why I’m bothering you all with this – maybe somehow my current situation can simply make you feel better about what ever is going on in your lives.
For those of you who live under a rock or do not text me on a regular basis, you might not be aware that a week ago my small intestine tried to choke the life out of my uterus and I ended up having emergency abdominal surgery to remove over two feet of my possessed cannibalistic innards.
This is just a prime example of the kind of luck that I have. It happened at my new job the first day I was to step up and officially take over for the outgoing person in my position. I got to be rushed to the hospital by a woman I barely know as I groaned in agony, hoping that my stomach would not explode all over the inside of her very nice, very clean Lincoln Navigator.
It was a wonderful bit of irony that allowed me to decide to wear a completely impractical pair of old spanx-type underwear to work that day. They were like old beat up bike shorts that were full of runs and much to tight on my stomach to be comfortable – by the time people were poking and looking down in my underwear region, they were rolled down, sweaty and exactly the reason your Mother tells you to wear nice clean underwear when you leave the house… in case this happens. You know you are in a lot of pain when you finally ask your sister to help you rip off your spanx-wear and start walking around the hospital with your entire butt exposed. There comes a point when you just don’t care anymore.
Since pre-hospital I have been dieting like a professional my last thought as I succumbed to anesthesia in the operating room was I wonder who much two feet of intestines weighs? Weight loss was helped after surgery because I was not allowed to eat or drink anything for four days.. and since I felt so shitty I didn’t really care – I thought this is the best diet boost ever. (I am currently down five pounds since the surgery and wondering how much other superfluous organs weigh – like my appendix or my tail bone?)
Post surgery I spent five days in the hospital dealing with a myriad of competencies. I had nurses that were awesome and understanding and compassionate and I had a couple that scared me – one I nicknamed scatterbrained Jane who I checked with twice every time she tried to inject me with something because I’m pretty sure she thought I was someone else, I picked up on this when she tried to send me downstairs for an ultrasound (something that I did not need and had nothing to do with my recovery process)… One night I had a nurse who was a perfect blend of Kathy Bates in Misery and the woman who declared the house from Poltergeist to be clean. I spent a sleepless night watching for her to sneak into my room and break my ankles.
I knew I was getting better and was ready to come home when I started getting hungry and my diet was changed from nothing – to clear liquids – to post surgical bland. You know things are improving when you get excited for flan.
P.S. I do know that my tail bone is not an organ…
This month you are a wonderful enigma, you are becoming such a good communicator and a fantastic little person to be around and yet you are also stubborn and contradictory and what we generally refer to as ‘cranky baby’. Your favorite phrase right now is “no, mine!’ as in “Lucy would you like some juice?” “No, mine!” You say as you grab it from our hands.
But it’s not all bad you are usually a very laid back easy-going kid. You love people and want to be around them as much s possible. With the windows open this month you can hear whenever anyone is out on our street and insist on going out to say “hi” to them.
We have spent a lot of time outside and it has become so warm that we have gotten out your water table which you love. And we have had the chance to go swimming a couple of times which (besides cheese) I think is your favorite thing in the world.
We went to Maine this past month which has already been documented, but you had a fantastic time and I can’t wait for you to get some more ‘lake time’ later this summer.
In the past 2 weeks you have begun going to daycare full-time – this is new for you since you’ve always only gone 3 or 4 days a week. You are adjusting well and really enjoy both your teachers and friends that you get to see everyday. You are more tired than usual but I think with time you will adjust to the new schedule.
I love you, Mama
While visiting my lady doctor this morning for my yearly violation I was asked by her medical assistant what I did for a living. I paused for probably like 5 seconds too long and then said (for the first time ever) “I’m a… librarian” I thought for a minute that maybe she wouldn’t believe me – that she’d think I was trying to deceive her. I pictured in my head a scene right out of the Princess Bride where she turned to me like Miracle Max and yelled “LIAR! LIAR!” and I ended up mumbling dejectedly “I’m not a witch – I’m a librarian” I don’t know why my mind always reverts to things like this… I am mean I am a librarian it’s just that I’ve never uttered it out loud until now. But instead she looked at me and said “oh, cool.”
Did you know it’s cool to be a librarian?
Back when I lived in California I had several lesbian friends and their code word for lesbian was ‘librarian’. They would invite me places and I would say things like “This isn’t one of those librarian parties is it?” (It always was).
I’m afraid for the rest of my life every time I say I’m a librarian everyone is going to secretly label me as a lesbian.
Sometimes I just need to get out of my own head.