Why I'm Still On Leave

My body jumped in to remind me today why I'm still on leave. I feel exactly good enough to be tricked into thinking I'm ok. I would say that for the past three days my abdomen has felt "tender".....which is a far cry from the fiery hell of the first 48 hours after surgery I promise you. My scars are healing nicely (according to the surgeon) and he even alleges that I am likely to be able to consume regular food without it exploding out the other end in a few months.


So you know,I've got THAT going for me.


I guess the trick of it is - you think you have strength where you do not, you think you can do things that in fact you should not. I think it's ok to scoop up a five year old to kiss him and it's a bad plan after all when I feel that warm burning spread across my abdomen.


Just a little biological warning sign - "Hey, stop that now."


The nurses at the short stay unit, whom I called several days ago after getting kicked by a five year old (accidentally) in the stomach, advised that I might experience some discomfort due to "adhesion".


This is another medical gem imparted by the nurses. Apparently when they have your belly all extended and bloated, they knock about a bit with their probes and instruments, separating tissues that have been connected inside you oh, since shortly after your cells differentiated inside your mother's womb to make you a human and not a menstrual cycle.


These tissues do not care for this separation, and can scab up a bit and then as you heal, they are uncomfortable, and can come apart somewhat as you heal AGAIN causing you more discomfort.


How feckin revolting is that. I've got scabs. Tissue scabs. Or some crap like that.

I told my surgeon I had kicked the pain meds, proudly, and he scoffed at me. "Why, take what you need! This is important for healing! You must take them when you feel discomfort it helps your body heal faster when you are not tense and in pain."

So today I took two. Not together, rather in sequence as required. The second seems to be making me feel a bit better. I didn't get dressed today, which is a slip as well - I'd been dressed the past three days.

But I'm cleared to return to the land of the living on June 8 and I'm fairly excited even if I'm worried about this slip.

I might even put clothes on when I go back to work! Unless I can find a way to define these jammies as corporate casual.

Totally unrelated - check out the cool egg I found at an antique shop a while back!

Why I'm Still On Leave

My body jumped in to remind me today why I'm still on leave. I feel exactly good enough to be tricked into thinking I'm ok. I would say that for the past three days my abdomen has felt "tender".....which is a far cry from the fiery hell of the first 48 hours after surgery I promise you. My scars are healing nicely (according to the surgeon) and he even alleges that I am likely to be able to consume regular food without it exploding out the other end in a few months.


So you know,I've got THAT going for me.


I guess the trick of it is - you think you have strength where you do not, you think you can do things that in fact you should not. I think it's ok to scoop up a five year old to kiss him and it's a bad plan after all when I feel that warm burning spread across my abdomen.


Just a little biological warning sign - "Hey, stop that now."


The nurses at the short stay unit, whom I called several days ago after getting kicked by a five year old (accidentally) in the stomach, advised that I might experience some discomfort due to "adhesion".


This is another medical gem imparted by the nurses. Apparently when they have your belly all extended and bloated, they knock about a bit with their probes and instruments, separating tissues that have been connected inside you oh, since shortly after your cells differentiated inside your mother's womb to make you a human and not a menstrual cycle.


These tissues do not care for this separation, and can scab up a bit and then as you heal, they are uncomfortable, and can come apart somewhat as you heal AGAIN causing you more discomfort.


How feckin revolting is that. I've got scabs. Tissue scabs. Or some crap like that.

I told my surgeon I had kicked the pain meds, proudly, and he scoffed at me. "Why, take what you need! This is important for healing! You must take them when you feel discomfort it helps your body heal faster when you are not tense and in pain."

So today I took two. Not together, rather in sequence as required. The second seems to be making me feel a bit better. I didn't get dressed today, which is a slip as well - I'd been dressed the past three days.

But I'm cleared to return to the land of the living on June 8 and I'm fairly excited even if I'm worried about this slip.

I might even put clothes on when I go back to work! Unless I can find a way to define these jammies as corporate casual.

Totally unrelated - check out the cool egg I found at an antique shop a while back!

Follow Up Appt!

So today is the big FOLLOW up appt with my surgeon. It truly seems like weeks ago that I had the surgery.
Weeks ago and I still feel like hell, let me add. I don't feel nearly as bad - mind you. I am fully aware I could feel MUCH MUCH MUCH worse.
But you know, I'm still OFF, still not right. Still too tired, still sore and hurt.

So we'll see what he says!

Follow Up Appt!

So today is the big FOLLOW up appt with my surgeon. It truly seems like weeks ago that I had the surgery.
Weeks ago and I still feel like hell, let me add. I don't feel nearly as bad - mind you. I am fully aware I could feel MUCH MUCH MUCH worse.
But you know, I'm still OFF, still not right. Still too tired, still sore and hurt.

So we'll see what he says!

No One Expects.......

I'd like to say the Spanish Inquisition but I'm not going that way.

I'm going to talk about BODILY FUNCTIONS. So if you can't handle that.......look away NOW.

It was Miss Swan #1 who clued me in (the one who praised my hairless belly and lack of "happy trail") during pre-op.

After wowing her with my intimate knowledge of the gall bladder, what it does and what they were going to do to me DURING surgery.

"And after." she inquired. "Do you know about AFTER?" I confessed I didn't. She started out gently, saying that some people still had some sensitivity to foods. I told her that I knew this, my Mom still has a hell of a time with some foods.

Then she dropped it on me. "Some people can't handle fat at all, afterward. Your liver will try to take over the job of your gallbladder. But until it adjust, or if it cannot adjust, you will experience terrible diarrhea and cramping when you eat fat. Some people never are able to consume fat again."

WHAT? WHAT? What the HELL are you telling me as I'm trussed up, medicated into submission? WHY WHY WHY is this the FIRST time I am hearing this?

She sighs, as I far more calmly expressed my concern about this detail having been omitted."Oh doctors,"she laughed."They never tell nobody, we nurses always have to make sure so that nobody is surprised."

So the first few days out of surgery I'm medicated and miserable. But as I start to climb out of the fog, I start to EAT. FOOD. You know, Normal Food.

I live in Georgia. We live on Fat here. Have you met us? Deep fried with cheese is just the way recipes start in cookbooks here.

I won't be grotesque and share with you the intimate details, but I've lost weight. Quite a bit. About 7 pounds in 10 days based on the difference between the hospital scale and my home scale so maybe it's in reality like 4 pounds. It's BECAUSE ALL MY FOOD IS RACING THROUGH ME IN A HORRIBLE FASHION PEOPLE!

I wonder if I should to back to broth and fat free yogurt for a few days just to see if I can right the wrongs going on internally.

Or maybe I'm going to get skinny, eh?

No One Expects.......

I'd like to say the Spanish Inquisition but I'm not going that way.

I'm going to talk about BODILY FUNCTIONS. So if you can't handle that.......look away NOW.

It was Miss Swan #1 who clued me in (the one who praised my hairless belly and lack of "happy trail") during pre-op.

After wowing her with my intimate knowledge of the gall bladder, what it does and what they were going to do to me DURING surgery.

"And after." she inquired. "Do you know about AFTER?" I confessed I didn't. She started out gently, saying that some people still had some sensitivity to foods. I told her that I knew this, my Mom still has a hell of a time with some foods.

Then she dropped it on me. "Some people can't handle fat at all, afterward. Your liver will try to take over the job of your gallbladder. But until it adjust, or if it cannot adjust, you will experience terrible diarrhea and cramping when you eat fat. Some people never are able to consume fat again."

WHAT? WHAT? What the HELL are you telling me as I'm trussed up, medicated into submission? WHY WHY WHY is this the FIRST time I am hearing this?

She sighs, as I far more calmly expressed my concern about this detail having been omitted."Oh doctors,"she laughed."They never tell nobody, we nurses always have to make sure so that nobody is surprised."

So the first few days out of surgery I'm medicated and miserable. But as I start to climb out of the fog, I start to EAT. FOOD. You know, Normal Food.

I live in Georgia. We live on Fat here. Have you met us? Deep fried with cheese is just the way recipes start in cookbooks here.

I won't be grotesque and share with you the intimate details, but I've lost weight. Quite a bit. About 7 pounds in 10 days based on the difference between the hospital scale and my home scale so maybe it's in reality like 4 pounds. It's BECAUSE ALL MY FOOD IS RACING THROUGH ME IN A HORRIBLE FASHION PEOPLE!

I wonder if I should to back to broth and fat free yogurt for a few days just to see if I can right the wrongs going on internally.

Or maybe I'm going to get skinny, eh?

SNAKE!

What does it sound like, when you stumble outside to pour your coffee grounds on your roses, and you see this green twig on the porch, and then that twig has a head and eyes and serpentines across your porch?
It sounds a little like "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA SNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE."
Don't get me wrong.
This wasn't a big snake. It was the size of a pencil.
But it WAS A DAMN SNAKE ON MY PORCH.
See I'm OFF snake guard. When we lived in Florida, I had full power Snake-dar going all the time. You had water moccasins and pygmy rattlers there like leaves on trees. Ask SARAH!
Sarah will confirm for you that once I nearly peed in my pants bcse I got halfway up her walk, between her bushes, when she called down "OH hey watch for the snakes in the bushes."

Snakes are my mortal enemies. I hate them like I hate Hitler. Except I'd just slap Hitler and snakes, well they send me running screaming in the other direction.

Once at my old job in FLA, I was out for a walk when this large branch on the pathway in front of me raised it's head and looked at me. WATER MOCCASIN. As I ran SCREAMING in the other direction, back to the outdoor break area......I informed my co-workers that there was a huge snake.
"Yeah, we heard you screaming," was all they had to say.
The natives in Florida are numb to the killer beasts they live among, I swear.

I also, at the same job, was out to lunch with a co-worker and was stepping out of my car, when I just HAPPENED to look down and nearly put my put down ON a coiled up water moccasin. It was lounging in the parking lot bcse a hurricane had come through and filled all the ditches up with water to flooding It was VERY happy to be there. I was not. I shrieked and got into my car and screamed and refused to come out.

Ever.

So as I went reeling back inside my house, to my husband and son telling me it was no big deal and BOTH stepping outside to check it out.....I didn't even care. He dumped the grounds on the roses and I stayed inside.

I will tolerate the snakes in the woods as they are eating vermin and keeping them out of my yard. I will tolerate the snakes in the yard as long at they have the SENSE to stay away when I am IN the yard.

But my PORCH?

The snakes are not welcome on my porch. Snake you and I do not have a deal and I am NOT Eve. I suggest you stay under the porch where I cannot see you or know you are there.

We'll both be happier.

SNAKE!

What does it sound like, when you stumble outside to pour your coffee grounds on your roses, and you see this green twig on the porch, and then that twig has a head and eyes and serpentines across your porch?
It sounds a little like "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA SNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE."
Don't get me wrong.
This wasn't a big snake. It was the size of a pencil.
But it WAS A DAMN SNAKE ON MY PORCH.
See I'm OFF snake guard. When we lived in Florida, I had full power Snake-dar going all the time. You had water moccasins and pygmy rattlers there like leaves on trees. Ask SARAH!
Sarah will confirm for you that once I nearly peed in my pants bcse I got halfway up her walk, between her bushes, when she called down "OH hey watch for the snakes in the bushes."

Snakes are my mortal enemies. I hate them like I hate Hitler. Except I'd just slap Hitler and snakes, well they send me running screaming in the other direction.

Once at my old job in FLA, I was out for a walk when this large branch on the pathway in front of me raised it's head and looked at me. WATER MOCCASIN. As I ran SCREAMING in the other direction, back to the outdoor break area......I informed my co-workers that there was a huge snake.
"Yeah, we heard you screaming," was all they had to say.
The natives in Florida are numb to the killer beasts they live among, I swear.

I also, at the same job, was out to lunch with a co-worker and was stepping out of my car, when I just HAPPENED to look down and nearly put my put down ON a coiled up water moccasin. It was lounging in the parking lot bcse a hurricane had come through and filled all the ditches up with water to flooding It was VERY happy to be there. I was not. I shrieked and got into my car and screamed and refused to come out.

Ever.

So as I went reeling back inside my house, to my husband and son telling me it was no big deal and BOTH stepping outside to check it out.....I didn't even care. He dumped the grounds on the roses and I stayed inside.

I will tolerate the snakes in the woods as they are eating vermin and keeping them out of my yard. I will tolerate the snakes in the yard as long at they have the SENSE to stay away when I am IN the yard.

But my PORCH?

The snakes are not welcome on my porch. Snake you and I do not have a deal and I am NOT Eve. I suggest you stay under the porch where I cannot see you or know you are there.

We'll both be happier.

You've Got a Friend In Me

Once upon a time, when I was twenty-something and blonde and FAR too cool for IT ALL, I got trapped at MGM Studios during a parade. I was with my bestest Friend, Mrs Repressed - we had stopped for ice cream and wouldn't you know it - a damned parade started up.

It was at the HEIGHT of TOY STORY madness, when it was new and the Disney Parks were RESOUNDING with Buzz and Woody fever.

Disney parades, sans children, are some form of hell. You can't see and you get blocked in - if you aren't in the right spot you can't get from Point A to Point B so you had just better grab a seat and get comfy. You aren't going ANYWHERE till the Disney Police take down the barricades.

So there we sat, she and I, in the blistering Florida sun, eating our ice cream and watching some of the brattiest kids on the face of the Earth throwing various tantrums. We watched couples have fights (man some of the WORST FIGHTS ever take place at Disney) and we generally glared at the parade route willing it to JUST BE OVER.

To add to our hell, the freaking music was BLARING right near us. It was a lovely compilation of "Strange things are happening to me" or whatever it's called and "You've Got a Friend in Me." Sort of a medley, if you will.

It blasted and blared the same short set of bars that had been cobbled together to FORM this medley over and over and over until by the time the parade was over....we were nearly giddy from madness.

Going on our way, we both raged our annoyance and laughed, sarcastically singing the refrain from hell we'd been subjected to. "You've GOT A FRIEND IN MEEEEEEEEEEEE. YOU'VE GOT A FRIEND IN MEEEEEEEEEEEE." Sort of like that. With twenty-something sarcasm to spare.

But times change. Best friends meet boys, get married and move away. Babies come, more babies come and lives are altered by the movement of the calendar. I was never more aware of that when I was awakened to the tinkling music box melody of "You've Got a Friend In Me" coming from my children's room this morning.

I crept to the doorway, bed headed and in sweaty pajamas, and peeked in quietly, so as not to disturb what was going on.

There, standing alone by the toy box, a little blonde 5 year old boy had propped up a music box toy and was playing himself that song. He swayed and danced a little, quietly listening to the music.

And I was a little sorry that I had ever been so callous and uncaring.

It's amazing how little things mean, when you have no little things of your own - isn't it?

You've Got a Friend In Me

Once upon a time, when I was twenty-something and blonde and FAR too cool for IT ALL, I got trapped at MGM Studios during a parade. I was with my bestest Friend, Mrs Repressed - we had stopped for ice cream and wouldn't you know it - a damned parade started up.

It was at the HEIGHT of TOY STORY madness, when it was new and the Disney Parks were RESOUNDING with Buzz and Woody fever.

Disney parades, sans children, are some form of hell. You can't see and you get blocked in - if you aren't in the right spot you can't get from Point A to Point B so you had just better grab a seat and get comfy. You aren't going ANYWHERE till the Disney Police take down the barricades.

So there we sat, she and I, in the blistering Florida sun, eating our ice cream and watching some of the brattiest kids on the face of the Earth throwing various tantrums. We watched couples have fights (man some of the WORST FIGHTS ever take place at Disney) and we generally glared at the parade route willing it to JUST BE OVER.

To add to our hell, the freaking music was BLARING right near us. It was a lovely compilation of "Strange things are happening to me" or whatever it's called and "You've Got a Friend in Me." Sort of a medley, if you will.

It blasted and blared the same short set of bars that had been cobbled together to FORM this medley over and over and over until by the time the parade was over....we were nearly giddy from madness.

Going on our way, we both raged our annoyance and laughed, sarcastically singing the refrain from hell we'd been subjected to. "You've GOT A FRIEND IN MEEEEEEEEEEEE. YOU'VE GOT A FRIEND IN MEEEEEEEEEEEE." Sort of like that. With twenty-something sarcasm to spare.

But times change. Best friends meet boys, get married and move away. Babies come, more babies come and lives are altered by the movement of the calendar. I was never more aware of that when I was awakened to the tinkling music box melody of "You've Got a Friend In Me" coming from my children's room this morning.

I crept to the doorway, bed headed and in sweaty pajamas, and peeked in quietly, so as not to disturb what was going on.

There, standing alone by the toy box, a little blonde 5 year old boy had propped up a music box toy and was playing himself that song. He swayed and danced a little, quietly listening to the music.

And I was a little sorry that I had ever been so callous and uncaring.

It's amazing how little things mean, when you have no little things of your own - isn't it?