"But, you, Melaina, are a flower of the South!"

Ok, I absolutely jinxed myself in that card game...Jan beat me by nearly 1,000 points. Whatevs. Still fun. And the rematch should be delicious.

So, yesterday was just not a good day. The tricky thing about this process is that on one hand, logically, reasonably, I am allowed to have days where I just don't have it together...where putting on a good face just isn't in the cards, and if someone asks me how I'm doing, I actually tell them the honest truth: "Not well. My back fucking hurts and it won't stop." (Of course, this dialogue only happens when I actually answer my phone which, when I'm feeling like I did most of the day yesterday, is unlikely-- because I DON'T LIKE TELLING ANYONE THAT I DON'T FEEL WELL. I've defined a small group of people who I don't mind having in my personal space right now, and to anyone outside of that immediate circle (it's pretty much just people who have at one time or another seen me naked in a non-sexual context), I tend to operate like my own publicist. I am sorry to anyone that I've been "spinning" to, because I certainly don't want to hurt anyone's feelings, but for some reason, Emily Post didn't include proper post-surgical etiquette in her advice. Lazy broad. So, if I don't answer my phone, or if I take a little longer to return a voicemail, or I've been hesitant to schedule a visit, then please don't take it personally. I am really looking forward to when the idea of people stopping by doesn't give me a knot in my stomach because I normally love playing hostess!)

On the other hand, the down days feel somehow illicit because a) things could be so much worse b) I feel like being down and discouraged is somehow a smack in the face to everyone who's doing so much to support and encourage me, and c) I feel at least partially responsible when my discomfort level is higher than it should be. When I've taken everything on time and in its recommended dose, then physical tasks get easier, and I push further than I should (lifting things I shouldn't be, bending, twisting, etc.)-- but it's sort of an illusion because my body simply isn't feeling the actual strain. And then a few hours later, or the next day, it catches up with me and BOOM!, I've slid back a few steps. It's pretty frustrating. People keep reminding me to be my own advocate, be as protective of myself and my peace of mind as possible, to not be afraid to say 'no', to be as selfish as I want to be. While this might make sense, it doesn't feel particularly good. And again, logically, reasonably, I should be Mary f-ing Sunshine! I consider the events that've transpired over the past 2 months, or the past 16 days, and that incredulity I've mentioned time and time again hasn't faded. But, now it's coupled with a different set of questions and considerations.

Firstly, I've gotten over the main obstacles...surgery went well, didn't contract any wicked infections afterwards, didn't lose any major faculties, and the pathology report was encouraging. The hoopla has certainly calmed down, and in its place is a long and uncertain road to an amorphous recovery. I don't know what to expect or when to expect it, I don't know when things will stop hurting, or when simple tasks will be simple again-- all I know is that getting strong and healthy is my highest priority. (My mom has been really great about getting me out of the house for little errands...running to Costco or Target, taking me on short trips to just get me out and about...and it's just ridiculous how uncomfortable it can be to do these simple things. Take tonight for example...Jan coaches a volleyball team and she has a casual ritual with another coach to eat dinner at a local restaurant to rehash the game. Jan invited me to join and it was fine for a little while...so nice to be out!!...but after maybe 45 minutes, I was like, "Mom, I think I hit my limit," and we had to get up and leave. This totally sucks because Jan's coaching friend is going through an absolute shitshow of her own, and was clearly benefitting from some girl-talk-time, and there I was like an f-ing 4-year-old, asking to go home. But, for real, it is uncomfortable to sit at a restaurant table, using a fork and knife, sitting up straight with no cushion on my back, trying to remain composed and adult despite the less elegant side effects of my meds. If you are one of people with whom I've declined a dinner invitation this week, now you know why. )

Secondly, despite a clean path report and a relatively encouraging prognosis, I still have to wrap my brain around the idea that this tumor threat will never be completely gone. I'm sure I'll be well taken care of, and that the lion's share of this bullshit is behind me...but it's never not going to be my reality. If I get a headache in 6 months, will I automatically assume it's related? What if I have another of those insane post-shower pass-outs? Will that mean my problems have all returned? I think I had put a lot of projections on this surgery...like maybe ANY issue I had could be explained and solved with this one discreet procedure...and now I'm beginning to deal with the real story. It has solved, and will continue to solve, some very serious problems. But, it's hardly a miracle cure...beneath everything, I'm still me, dealing with my 'me' issues. My perspective has certainly changed-- that's for damn sure!!-- but it's still me. This is both comforting and overwhelming-- a rare combination.

Anyway, that was sort of the pre-cursor to tonight's good workout victory and fun game of cards-- best wishes for everyone to have a nice Friday.