i have really missed this blog in the last week or so. i have missed the writing, and i have missed being able to have a coherent thought about what to write about. i still might be a bit sketchy about the “coherent” part, but i’m well enough to give it a shot, so here goes!

first of all, thanks to everyone who kept *h awash in a stream of praise. i’m kind of surprised, given how much he loved blogging on here, that he didn’t write more often. but, you’ve gotten your taste of him, and now he has flown off into the wild blue yonder to smell coffee and look at mountains and start his new (shhhhhhhh- very secret!) job…

and i am feeling a bit stronger each day, although it is a strange oxymoronic kind of progress where the more i feel better, the more aware i am able to be about how very unwell i feel. so, the twist is that i am better enough to know that i have a long way to go to actually get better! but at least it’s going in the right direction, and after this roller coaster ride, any progress is progress i can get board with!

i went for my first post-op appointment with my wonderful doctor. he said things are looking good and healing on schedule, and i celebrated by coming home and taking a shower.

up until today, i was allowed to kind of sort of shower. i just had to hold one thing and cover another thing and stand at a certain angle and make sure not to drop a different thing. there would have been so much juggling involved that i decided to just embrace my inner (and within a few days my outer) funkiness.

there’s nothing quite so soulfully poetic as laying in bed in dirty clothes, covered in leaking body fluids, smelling with an almost animalistic intensity of sweat, and realizing that your current state is still preferable to doing the complicated dance that is a post-surgery shower.

but today, dr. good (my private pet name for him) removed several of my impediments to cleanliness and i came home and took the plunge. yes, it still took me over an hour to gather my wits for the momentous undertaking, but i was a woman on a mission.

also unlike any shower in my entire showering history, i went into the bathroom with a full-length mirror. if you know me at all in real life, you will be laughing already, since the idea of my naked self anywhere near a mirror is about as unlikely as a toddler performing unassisted brain surgery. but, the terrain of my physical self has been altered to the point where i needed a bit of a get-reacquainted tour.

everything was pretty much where i had left it prior to surgery, which was quite good news. but, the landscape was altered. where that cute mole was, there is now a lake of gorgeous purple sunsets. where a certain scar sat lonely, there is currently a crocheted doilie made of black sutures. where i had only known smooth skin, i now have some bumps and lumps and possibly some unidentifiable foodstuff smeared across the canvas. painkillers don’t so much kill the pain as they kill the part of my brain that is afraid of it. so i am allowed to observe this new body thing as an objective outsider. my body does not feel like it houses my soul; rather, it feels like a cattle car in a holocaust museum somewhere and i am reading the plaque on the wall that describes the history of this piece of something else. i can smell the long-ago fear of the animals who inhabited this space. i can see the scratches on the walls that testify to the torment of things locked inside, but exactly what caused those marks to appear is still a mystery. i stare, squinting my eyes at the indecipherable message printed on the scraps of bandage that fall to the floor. i bend in closer and a staple launches itself toward the sink. i get under the warm shower and just exhale.


i try to remember what one does in a shower, and i feel very very spent. i feel like a tragic heroine in a victorian novel, and i actually wonder if i might swoon and pass out. but, this is 2011 and not 1859, so, i hang in there and wash my hair. i literally am so tired that i know i have to get out of the shower or stay there forever. but the thought of having to step over the side of the tub, and reaching for the towel, and drying off this foreign body thing just overwhelm me. the idea of putting my bandages back together and plugging my holes and anti-ing my biotics is just too much. in one last burst of pure will, i do get out and i do triage the mess that is me and i do make it back to bed, by now literally shaking with the effort.

because my kids are good souls, they take turns rubbing my back while my nervous system calms itself into a state of weary indignation. because our friends are good, i know that they will be bringing over supper soon, which is good because i can no longer remember how to deal with anything non-medical. because *h is good, we have endless rounds of “who wants to talk to daddy on the phone?!?”

because medication is good, my nausea subsides a bit, and my pain organizes itself into something resembling a human life.

i am wearing my softest fleeciest plaidiest pajama pants. i have great socks. my feet are happy they weren’t dragged into the mele 6 long days ago. i am blurry around the edges, but i am keeping it together.

i missed blogging and i missed you guys. i am looking very much forward to keeping you informed as my life continues to develop.