So, today I get to roll on home to the Warm Woolen Mitten for some hardcore recovery time with Jan and Doug. Let me just say this right now: yes, I am nervous about making the trip. I know my mom will drive gingerly and that we can stop often, that it's a nice, cushy SUV (sorry, environment, for being a little assy), and that there are much less comfortable ways to travel. I understand all of these things very well. HOWEVER. My mom drove me from the hospital to my grandma's house on Thursday, a trip that takes maybe 20 minutes, and my concern for her to develop an aneurysm or heartattack from that white-knuckle situation was reaching an easy Defcon 2. (She would literally apologize for any unevenness on the road, as though it was her fault that concrete in the Midwest is subject to unevenness. She also sucked through her teeth when we'd have to turn the car's direction...like, "Damn you, Christ Hospital! Must you not be situated in a straight line from my mom's house?!" Poor Jan. I don't want her to incur any more stress! I think I'm going to see if I can score some pot for she and my dad from some high school kids back home...they need a break and some giggles. And maybe a full bag of some sort of snack food. Oh, dear....how long ago those days were...and wow, that would be a hilarious sight.
"Dad, are you alright?"
"Yeah, hee-hee-hee. Why?"
"Well, you're watching Cartoon Network."
"Yeah, so?"
"And you also ate the entire casserole dish of cheesy pototoes."
"Well, hee-hee-hee, I was hungry!"
"Dad...shouldn't you be at work, like, y'know, running your business?"
"Dana, you're not the boss of me. Where's our DVD of Dazed and Confused?"
Anyway, the roads in Michigan straight-up suck, with or without spinal discomfort-- but being home will be ample reward for any discomfort in transit.
So, sleeping last night was yet another exercise in futility. I've only been able to get about 3 or 4 hours of sleep each night because I have to be woken up to take meds, and then going back to sleep seems impossible, so I get up and write. This leaves me exhausted during the day, but the writing I've been doing while everyone else is REM-ing it up probably has some restorative qualities of its own. (There's a lot of crying involved during these late-night sessions. I write, cry, breathe through the pain, and then eventually the sun comes up-- and the resulting feeling is one of I guess "capability"....like I've gotten some toxic and confused shit off my chest, and I've made steps toward wrapping my head around what I've been through, and the coming day seems less daunting even if I know it's going to be challenging and painful at points.)
There seems to be quite a bit of interest already in what results the surgery has already yielded. I understand the interest (I'm pretty f-ing interesting in my own progress as well, thankyouverymuch), but at this point it's really premature. I think that after the initial swelling goes down, then I can start to really take stock. However, there've been a few little things I've noticed-- one in particular that I find to be awesome. So, we've all had those days where we pull on a pair of pants, only to realize (sometimes at an inopportune time) that there's a sock or errant pair of undersquares stuck inside. Yesterday, I pulled on a pair of jeans and immediately was patting down the back of my thigh, certain there was some undergarment between the fabric and my leg. My mom patted me down and then physically looked down the waistband to find nothing there. It was just my nerves telling me so! So, all day yesterday, I couldn't helping patting my thigh, thinking that maybe something would show up. (Jennie, Carrie, Adrienne and I had our nails done yesterday, and to curb the stiffness and pain I'd surely get from sitting in the waiting area, I paced the salon back and forth until my nail tech was ready, and every time I passed C and A at the pedicure station, I kept stage-whispering "Phantom Underpants". (If I start a girl-band, that'll be the name of our debut album.) Anyway, I guess those nerves in the back of my thigh that were feeling the Phantom Underpants are sort of the first ones to respond to the surgery, I think. My right foot is starting to wake up a little, too, I think....and I can feel a change in the pressure on my jaw and ear. I'll try to keep people updated on other improvements, but those are the changes so far. I need to be very patient. And very ambitious with the concept of Phantom Underpants...
Alright-- there's definitely some other things I will be addressing later. Here are the teasers:
1) Uncle Paul on pain-killers
2) The New Policy
3) The Courtesy
I know...I can't wait either. But the coffee kicked in.
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