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Bored and In Pain- Send Slaves in Loincloths and Amazon Gift Certificates

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?!
 
From R, just now:
 
“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’m bored- so bored.
 
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.

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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.

 

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today’s post surgery updates

1. no, I am not well enough to do x, y, z
 
2. I am in pain, still. Called my doctor, waiting for a returned call.
 
3. If you’ve asked how I am, I am mostly sleeping. If you haven’t asked and think I should be recovered from this now, then f*ck off. Forever. Don’t pass go, don’t collect $200 dollars. Not having a good day today.
 
4. I cry a lot. I didn’t expect that part. This wasn’t easier than gallbladder or c-sections. Maybe it was the fact that they took my cervix and tubes that made it a bit worse- or the fact that they had to shove a huge piece out of a too small incision, from what dad and R told me (as I’ve not spoken to my doctor since before surgery).
 
5. I feel like I’ve been stabbed in the abdomen multiple times and I am still bleeding through the dressings.
 
6. I am not dead, people can text me or message me. Unless you’re one of the few that seems to want a reading, then you can forget I have a number.
 
7. My belly swelling is going down. It’s bruised nicely.
 
8. Food is gross. All food. I had to negotiate down to 1 piece of toast this morning to take my pain meds. I don’t feel the need to eat two pieces of what taste suspiciously like charred assholes, hair still on.
 
9. Told R to stop trying to give me a menu. If I have to eat food with my meds, just bring me the minimum and don’t torture me with the prospects.
 
10. GasX is amazing. If you ever get pumped full of CO2, you will want to eat these things after, just to keep you from screaming in pain. Gas pains are hideous.
 
11. Please send me funny memes. Anything funny. IDGAF how tasteless. It’s boring being bedridden.
 
12. Pooping is miraculous after abdominal surgery- and appalling. All hail the workings of the kishkes. Once they start functioning again, it’s like the heavens have opened up. If the ‘heavens’ were closer to your rectum, that is.
 
13. I cannot discuss food right now, people. I don’t like it, possibly for one of the rare times in my life. Even the thought of it makes me wanna puke.
 
14. I love coffee. Coffee and tea are the only two things keeping me sane right now.
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I should be blogging, but life & bleeding & Bourdain & grads & ballet get in the way…

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I should be blogging about my female issues, part 2, but at the moment my innards are weeping the bloodiest of tears. I’ve slept so much this week since the endometrial biopsy- and it jump started my period early. I had no idea that simple uterine biopsies could take so much out of a person. The pain is better, the fatigue is not.

My hysterectomy is scheduled for 12 July.

My endometrial biopsy (the first) should be back early this week, the oncologist says.

My son graduated from high school last weekend, I still need to add this to the blog. I am so proud of him.

Maisie has her 2nd ballet/tap recital of her life tomorrow. I will be herding cats/taking care of the tots back stage, like I did last year. Someone has to do it and I’m evolving into a stage mother at this point.

The other crazy things happening in the periphery are dying down, for now. I’ve had my say and will continue to work through this, as a reminder to myself and others- don’t let people walk all over you. There are some seriously chronically messed up opportunists out there- and yeah, while addiction can account for a lot, that still is not an excuse for what was done to us.

I think about Bourdain and his fragility- and the fragility of those around us. This world will eat you up and spit you out if you don’t stand up for yourself and for what is right. Tony Bourdain stood up against the tides, championed his girlfriend’s #metoo cause against Weinstein- and it still wasn’t enough.

I saw a chilling post Bourdain put up on his Twitter on 22 May. It called out some guy re being found hung (I’m paraphrasing) in a lavatory from auto-erotic asphyxiation. It kind of gave me chills. While I don’t know the circumstances surrounding his death any more than the rest of us (a bathrobe belt, found tied to a door)- suicide or accident- neither is preferable.

He had his child at 50. That alone would make it impossible for me to take my own life, but I don’t live in anyone’s skin but my own.

It’s sad, sad, sad in this mad world.

Death comes to all of us, sooner or later. I think about my own mortality a lot right now. I’d fight tooth and nail against it, just like I fight tooth and nail against any other injustice levied against others and myself.

But life goes on, children grow up and graduate and do their recitals and play with their toys. We grow older. We die.

Over and over, in different bodies and different lives, it is all the same. We all share this common thread- even though we believe we’re unique.

We’re not unique. That is the beauty of it. The sameness, the threads that bind us- that’s the wonderment.

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My First Vlog: HUGE THANK YOU to those who supported me these last few days…

I’ve never done this before, so… thank you all. Really.

I just figured out that I could record video on my new macbook pro.

Thank you for reading my blog and the problems with my family re depression, lupus, bipolar, and dementia

What happened: http://bit.ly/1IS8ZG7

About Lupus: http://bit.ly/1g41yVx

On Why I Overshare: http://bit.ly/1LdBgIW

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After A “Certain Age”, Babies Are Hard On The Back… Now Three People Have Their Backs Out Because of Maisie!

Last week, I was taken by ambulance from my living room to the ER.  My back spasm’d and went out.  I have L2-L4 issues and a possible herniated disc.

The ER docs immediately injected me with valium, morphine, and toradal.  I went from shrieking pain to La-la-land in a matter of moments.  They sent me home with a few prescriptions for pain management and instructions to contact my primary care doctor.

Now I am facing months of physical therapy and pain management, which I am not doing well with.  I also *HATE* pain meds. Anything that makes it hard to poop and makes one forget chunks of time is NOT ok with me.

Yeah, pain meds DO ease discomfort, but I am already an exhausted Mombie as it is. My inner control freak would rather opt for bouts on my Teeter Hang Up and visits to my chiropractor.

I need to do yoga STAT, but have to wait for an okay from my doctor.  At this moment, I am not supposed to lift her, nor bend/twist for SIX FREAKING WEEKS.

Not going to happen… impossible.  I have a 10 month old baby who is going through her ‘separation anxiety- mamamamamaaaa!!!’ stage.

Fast forward to this week:

The good news is that I am feeling much better, with occasional doses of meds-lots of inversion table time- and bed rest.  The bad news is that I had week-long family visiting from Houston, TX and one of them put THEIR BACK out picking up the baby.  They’re on their way to the airport in Chicago as I type this and I feel horrible that they are in so much pain.

Also, my ‘manny’ (yeah, had one for the last five months) ALSO put HIS back out this month from picking up my little beastie!  He is better, but has occasional issues and will be leaving some time this month for must needed rest and relaxation.

I am hoping to get my back and core back in shape so that I can handle this baby alone when the help goes. In the meantime, I have been lifting her/carrying her occasionally.

Unfortunately, she has to learn to be put down more. It’s a process…