Thursday, November 02, 2006
And A Big Argh
I had my first major outing today since the surgery that didn't involve seeing Buffy the surgeon.
I voted and ate Chinese food.
And now I'm exhausted. One hour out in Hooterville and I feel like I've been run over by a Mack Truck.
See, today I've been short-tempered and grouchy. My normally active self has been docile for a week and a half. I'm going a bit stir-crazy.
On the other hand, if I do anything more than lift my fork from my plate to my mouth, I'm wiped out. And we aren't talking a little bit disheveled. We are talking dog ass tired.
One thing this has shown me is the absolute courage of people who have long term chronic or terminal illnesses.
I feel like a wuss. One bitchy wuss.
While voting, people were asking how I was after the surgery. I appreciated their concern but being in my hot-headed state of mind, I wanted to scream out "Imagine having somewhere near 15 stitches less than an inch from your crotch and how would you feel, Bub?"
Instead, I said "I'm fine. A bit tired but I'm healing nicely."
The stitches are horrendous and a part of the bladder surgery. They come out next week. I can't help but wonder if the hammock (made out of cadaver pieces parts) is possessed or something. Sort of like the movie "The Hand."
Will I become a nymphomaniac or start sewing little rosettes?
Who knows? I just know that I have a ton of disability paperwork (I bought it last year at work and that was one smart move) and this overwhelming desire to sock someone.
The thing I'm too tired to even ball up a fist.
*sigh*
I had my first major outing today since the surgery that didn't involve seeing Buffy the surgeon.
I voted and ate Chinese food.
And now I'm exhausted. One hour out in Hooterville and I feel like I've been run over by a Mack Truck.
See, today I've been short-tempered and grouchy. My normally active self has been docile for a week and a half. I'm going a bit stir-crazy.
On the other hand, if I do anything more than lift my fork from my plate to my mouth, I'm wiped out. And we aren't talking a little bit disheveled. We are talking dog ass tired.
One thing this has shown me is the absolute courage of people who have long term chronic or terminal illnesses.
I feel like a wuss. One bitchy wuss.
While voting, people were asking how I was after the surgery. I appreciated their concern but being in my hot-headed state of mind, I wanted to scream out "Imagine having somewhere near 15 stitches less than an inch from your crotch and how would you feel, Bub?"
Instead, I said "I'm fine. A bit tired but I'm healing nicely."
The stitches are horrendous and a part of the bladder surgery. They come out next week. I can't help but wonder if the hammock (made out of cadaver pieces parts) is possessed or something. Sort of like the movie "The Hand."
Will I become a nymphomaniac or start sewing little rosettes?
Who knows? I just know that I have a ton of disability paperwork (I bought it last year at work and that was one smart move) and this overwhelming desire to sock someone.
The thing I'm too tired to even ball up a fist.
*sigh*
Photo from All Posters
¶ 11/02/2006 12:12:00 PM
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Everything you said means that you are Perfectly Normal, miss. Beer and chocolate will help a little; so will just sitting and talking to the pets. At the pets. With the pets. Whatever. And feel free to just whale the hell out of people who annoy you. I had to be physically restrained from kicking the teeth out of two morons at Kroger who kept running over my heels three weeks post-surgery. Evil ignert bastids.
By the way, they used cadaver skin on a wound graft for my incision after it merrily popped open on the end ... everything healed magnificently.
I just have this really weird thing about fire now. And, um, loud crowds of villagers.
Heh.
Heal heal heal heal heal heal heal. Rest.
Also, drink.
:0)
By the way, they used cadaver skin on a wound graft for my incision after it merrily popped open on the end ... everything healed magnificently.
I just have this really weird thing about fire now. And, um, loud crowds of villagers.
Heh.
Heal heal heal heal heal heal heal. Rest.
Also, drink.
:0)
if I do anything more than lift my fork from my plate to my mouth, I'm wiped out. And we aren't talking a little bit disheveled. We are talking dog ass tired.
I've lived much of the last 2 years of my life like this. It isn't fun, but the good news is you'll be done with it soon.
I understand soooo much of what you're going through, and I really sincerely hope the best for you. You're a feisty one, and while this is a pain in the not-quite-ass-region, I know you'll come out of it with flying colours.
Congrats on leaving the house, etc. If only there were good people to vote for....
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I've lived much of the last 2 years of my life like this. It isn't fun, but the good news is you'll be done with it soon.
I understand soooo much of what you're going through, and I really sincerely hope the best for you. You're a feisty one, and while this is a pain in the not-quite-ass-region, I know you'll come out of it with flying colours.
Congrats on leaving the house, etc. If only there were good people to vote for....
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