So, you guys know that “Losing my Religion” was not about actual religion, right? To me, it’s common knowledge, but I wasn’t sure if people would get it if I chose that for a title.
It was/is an expression, basically meaning, “at your wits’ end”, and that’s where I’m finding myself today. It’s been pouring and grey and windy all day- only now I see a beautiful little bit on sunset. I’ve spent today in my lady cave, sorta pondering the mysteries of my own private universe.
Things with the roomy are on and off, and honestly, it makes things hard sometimes. As a creative type, I feel things pretty intensely- some say, too intensely, but then again, that’s what makes me… me… you know?
I’m working on the job thing, and while I don’t want or need ‘How To’ advice on that front, I could use some virtual pats on the back. When I’m feeling sad about other stuff, it’s hard to find the self-confidence I need to put in a nice application. Is this common? Do you ever feel this way? I hope it’s not just me. I kinda wanted to make a reference to Manic Monday in this post too, but my Monday isn’t Manic. I just feel losery in the way that song describes, except they are referring to actually having a job. Ah well, big-haired nostalgia helps anyway.
I’ve been struggling to find words for this blog, so in lieu of a mighty creative post, here are just a few little updates:
I’m looking for a job now. I’d like to say that’s what’s keeping me off of here, but that’s not really true.
My health is coming along. Aside from an epic fall on some pavement the other day, resulting miraculously in only a skinned knee and some bruising, I’m doing alright.
Weight gain. I really, really don’t know what to do about this. It might be the surgical menopause. It might be the medications I needed post-surgery. But, I am huge. I don’t like this, but what’s the alternative?
Exercise. I am happy enough with having my mobility back. I don’t know exactly what I can and cannot handle. Working on working this out.
Food. The weight gain isn’t entirely from food. There are one or two things I’ve changed for the worse, but all in all, I eat similarly, and for some reason, am bigger. So, here, what do I do, right? I guess I am really just trying for some balance- more protein, bringing back some of my older, better habits.
I don’t really know how I feel this holiday season. I was feeling in the spirit a few weeks ago, but now, not so much. At the moment, I feel a little bit like this guy.
This has been one crazy year. The Year of The Surgeries… and they’re all good- not regretting any of it. It’s just The Surgeries lead to The Talks, and that’s what’s getting to me.
I’m going to fictionalize this a bit because I care about those involved, but I also need my internet friends right now. About 3/4 of the way through my first recovery, Roommate gave me shit for not doing housework. Trust me, I know how silly this sounds- I was there. I remember picking things up with my toes and uttering made-up swear words.
For perspective, and to be fair, Roommate has been dealing my bodily malfunctions for years now. I never asked to be sick. It took courage to face fixing the problems. I didn’t think I’d be dealing with this, too.
At the end of every round of surgery/procedure/whatever, Roommate calmly told me how much I sucked- that I didn’t help around, that I didn’t pull my fair share, that I expected too much. So, with this surgery… Yes, surgery, I went into it expecting to go back to tempjob right away. Did I want to? Does it matter? On the one hand, yes I did. I liked the work and the people. On the other, most people have a much longer recovery time.
I managed to convince my Dr that I would follow any and all advice. Triumphantly, I held that little piece of paper in my hand… only to have Roommate start again with the same lecture, and again reminding me that if I don’t clean up my act, that eviction is imminent.
I can’t afford to stand on my own right now. As it is, I am lucky to even be standing. I was told to come up with a plan- as if I haven’t had one all along. You can plan until you are blue in the face, but life doesn’t always go your way.
TL;DR: I’m scared.
I have to have another surgery. I am scared.
Girlfriend and I had Issues. Things are looking up now.
I started a temp job.
My laundry is really backed up right now, and I’m trying to catch up before I have limited mobility again.
I’m kind of tired of crazy things being wrong with me, but at the same time, I’m very very grateful for the outstanding care.
It turns out my forehead reacts to soda. Of course it does… /Sarcasm/
I’ve been drinking more coffee than ever, partly because I couldn’t for so long. This may change back again…
I mentioned before that I can now drink milk, and I have been, almost every day.
I gained SO MUCH WEIGHT, you guys… I didn’t even know this was possible. I am delighted that I can eat things I couldn’t digest easily before, but something is up with the way I am digesting my food. It scares me not knowing if this will change from good to bad or not.
I have to go see another surgeon- just to talk, but still… This may result in another surgery, it may not. The talk is scheduled for a while from now, which is both good and bad: Good, because well, it’s October, and I want to do Halloween-type things; Bad, because I have time to mull it over. The thing is, there isn’t much to mull over just yet- only the fact that there is an appointment scheduled, but fear being what it is, it can mess with your mind a little bit.
I’ve been extremely, incredibly, unbelievably lucky. I just… don’t want to chance it, you know? Part of me wants to leave well enough alone, but part of me also knows that if it’s best to go ahead and take care of it, I will.
I’ve been so lucky on the food front. I don’t say this to brag, *at all*. It’s just, for longtime readers, you guys know what I went through- Every time I wanted to try a recipe, it had to be modified- sometimes, pretty extensively. So far, things have been really good, almost unbelievably good. I’m almost waiting for the other shoe to drop, (which, technically was Piper’s fear, but I couldn’t find a good picture of it).
I don’t feel like being back in a hospital (eventually, maybe, possibly), but I also don’t feel like worrying about bad things inside of me creating havoc amongst my internals. I also fear speaking these fears, because I don’t want it to look like I’m unappreciative of the excellent care I’ve had thus far.
I’ve been doing really well, considering. It’s just hard to face Fear.
And now for something completely different… Here’s a list of completely random things about the hospital & surgery & life afterwards that I’ve been meaning to share:
You get the stupids. I’ve had the stupids off and on since surgery, which was now, (counts on fingers), about 6 months ago. In the beginning, it was the pain pills, but now, it’s just organically stupid. Some say it’s a menopause thing.
Extra-bonus complicated surgery means that some of the sh…tuff I went through, you will not go through. So, please don’t get scared off!
All in all, I’m glad I did it. But, yes, there were moments when I questioned it… Not really about the kid thing at the time, because honestly, as it turns out, that would’ve been pretty near impossible, but more about the amount of pain involved. Surgery hurts. A lot. Especially when you’re talking about completely opening the abdomen up and taking out a ton of stuff that doesn’t belong there.
The sad-no-kid feelings did/do come, but I kept/keep reminding myself about the above. It would have been far worse if I’d tried…
Walking was awful for a while there. There’s a reason they call it the “hysterectomy shuffle”, but the pillow against abdomen thing totally helped.
Hospital food kinda sucks. Except I really wasn’t allowed to eat much of it during the first visit. Also, because my hospital doesn’t clarify the difference between an allergy and an intolerance to their food staff, I basically was allowed to only eat about 1 or 2 items off of a 6 item menu. Good times. During the second visit, it took a minor miracle for me just to get a sandwich.
Oh, so many of my food issues cleared up once I healed from the surgery. Thank goodness! It was a tough road for awhile, there.
I don’t want to be in a shared room with a woman with her husband staying over 24/7. No one asked.
The physical therapists were so understanding. I loved them.
I don’t drink much (the gallbladder put the kebosh on that), and I don’t take medicines unless I’m in a ton of pain, so the pain medicine they gave me made me goofy. …Which at least was better than what my mood would’ve been without.
I don’t like shots in the tummy.
The first day home was so, so hard. I took three steps and needed to rest a good 15 minutes before even attempting to go any further.
Nurses are awesome.
Throat after surgery. So not right. Apparently, that was all I could talk about until they got me some throat spray. I barely remember this, but I do remember being happy I had that, since I wasn’t allowed to eat for days.
I gained all my weight back and then some. I was really enjoying being 20 pounds lighter, you guys!
I am pretty sure it was the menopause fairy that told me to eat a trayful of brownies a couple of months ago.
Hot flashes suck. It is everything you’d think it would be and more. Who knew tshirts conducted heat???
I probably should’ve stayed on my post-surgery health kick. I started eating a lot of junk food once I was able to. Lack of gallbladder problems, meet menopause. I’m sure you two will have lots of fun together.
I can’t tell you about lesexytime, (even if you wanted to know), because it hasn’t happened yet. I really don’t care that much. I think letting it happen naturally is best, and I wasn’t exactly mojo-ready. I’m not a good baseline anyway, because of technical surgery things in that region.
I’m sure I’m forgetting something, so there might be another one of these later! 🙂
It started off pretty well. I woke up early, lazed around because it’s Sunday. …had breakfast- unremarkable. Sat down for a little while to let my stomach settle. (Sometimes I have stomach issues after breakfast. It’s gone on for years.) Then, I decided to go out… and I ended up messing up someone else’s car in the process.
I don’t want to get into too much detail, on the off chance that any real-life contacts read this, so please forgive the relative vagueness. But, I was driving, and I hit something that seemed smaller than it was, and it messed up the car. I don’t know how badly yet, but my heart aches with guilt. That’s really the part that I need to release.
I felt so horrible, friends. I cried all day. I’ve yet to be forgiven for my mishap, if forgiveness comes. I called Girlfriend, who always has opinions when it comes to my fragile emotions, and she attempted to cheer me up. But, I was insistent on the emotional flagellation, and it continues well into this late night.
I may take this down, as it’s not my usual fare, but I just need to let it out somewhere where it can breathe and not bother me for a while. Thanks for reading.
When I was recovering from crazy surgery times, I wasn’t able to drive. Prior to that, I was too weak to feel up to it, and also my car needed work. While I was in the hospital the first time, Girlfriend offered to spot me the expense to fix it… and I said ‘no’, because my medical prognosis was at least 12 weeks out, and then I ended up back in the hospital.. (Btw, this is not normal, so don’t be scared if you are anticipating surgery! I just had some really messed up insides that are definitely atypical!)
My thought at the time was “why bother?”. But then, I got better, and was finally able to drive… (which was actually not that long ago), and “ohhhh, rightttt… car doesn’t wroom!”… So, I accepted her kindness. It hurt my pride a little, and I hated leaning on her that hard after she’s been so amazingly supportive of me, but she was right, I needed her.
I took it out after it was fixed, and it’s still doing something stupid, but only occasionally, and of course, unpredictably- kind of like how my body was acting prior to surgery. We are tied together, like Pokemon and trainer, if you’re into that sort of thing. It’s my “Brad”, if you’ve seen that commercial. My Brad is older now, just like I am, and I’m not sure how much longer we will have together.
So, I decided to take the somewhat questionable step and thoroughly clean it. I used what little pocket money I had to wash it and vacuum it- twice actually, because it sat for so long. I was always good at that sort of thing, but I know zero about mechanics. Like I said, it’s not totally fixed yet, so this could be for nothing.
You can’t imagine how thankful I was to be able to bend in weird ways to do the vacuuming. You have to understand- I was barely mobile for so long- even walking a few feet was a big deal, so to be able to contort brought me great satisfaction. I’m not totally healed yet, either, but we are both looking much better.