Me (to R): “What are you feeding me? I feel so full”
R: “Hon, I keep making you drink protein shakes when you take your meds- you haven’t actually eaten today”
Ok, weird. That works, too.
I’m groggy. I’m bored. I feel accomplished when I get 250 steps.
I am not a good patient. I want to go swimming (can’t for 2 months), take a long bath (can’t for 2 months), and am bitching that R hasn’t sent me long love letters while I am incarcerated (in my bedroom).
The only sports I am allowed are power farting (encouraged) and being able to use the toilet without crying (also encouraged). I am, however, not good at either of these sports currently.
I am not allowed to lift anything heavier than a cup of coffee and technically not allowed to bend myself in half.
HOW THE HELL DO YOU STOP YOURSELF FROM BENDING IN HALF?!
“She is such a sweetie. Her thing today is “you’re a good cook Daddy”
Every time I give her something to eat”
Yeah, I’d probably say the same, if he brought me a margarita. Or coffee. Or anything besides a protein shake and sedatives.
If anyone wants to send me long love letters, while I am incarcerated to my bedroom, at this point and on the meds I’m receiving, I may only think it’s kinda weird and may or may not laugh.
I’d love a makeover, to wear furs and all my jewelry, and to be fanned by slaves in loincloths.
This would also probably bore the fuck out of me.
Also, amazon.com gift certificates would be great.
Yeah, I am a horrible patient. Laying here is driving me insane.
this is actually from the day of surgery. no makeup. no fake nails. au naturel. yay… Not bad for almost a half-century. I’m ok with it.