I went in on Friday to have my gall bladder removed. And for the next few days I have been in a dream. With eyes closed, they could do anything to me and I didn't care. I came home yesterday and fell into bed. I wake up every hour or half hour, mellow as cheese sauce.
The crazy thing is the ongoing dream I have been having for over fourteen hours. I get up, use the bathroom, drink 50/50 grape juice and water, and fall back into bed to resume the dream. If you want to know what it is like, imagine a an old English film where nothing makes sense. The quality is awful and I am squinting in the dream. It kind of goes together, and I've found myself sitting with my eyes closed while using the bathroom and waking or sleeping it's all the same. The nurses would say, "Open your eyes." I am relaxed and can say my discomfort level is only about a 1.5. So I'm doing great.
To my Canarsie friends, do you remember walking to school during a hurricane? Those were mild ones that we would get the tail end. In those days little girls wore rain boots and coats. We would fling our arms wide as we got blown to PS 272. I wonder, does anyone allow their kid to walk in the rain anymore? I would get blue when there wasn't a car waiting for me, because my mother had been one of the few mothers who drove. Somehow those women would wave for the friend I was walking with and not take me, too. (Listen... if you need a ride, I'll take you. Just want to have that straight.)
So to those that knew, I am fine, and those that didn't know, I didn't want you to worry or visit or call.*
On another jolly note, I found some little led head lamps at Costco, three in a package. Can you imagine the fun of sending those to almost 4 year old twin nephews and their 6 year old brother? I bet they were excited to get them too. I just love those little things. (A very happy unbirthday to you! And you.)
Mmm, gonna switch things up with some organic broth. Oh yeah, I know how to live.
*Several hours ago I received a text from a daughter expressing dismay at finding out I had been in the hospital via Facebook. Again I reiterated that I didn't want phone calls or visits and she said I could have just told her. I remember one of the old lady's tricks was to say, "Now that it is over I can tell you..." I would get furious and tell her she had to tell me before or during, not after. That it was my job to worry about them. That I would almost rather not know than to be told after the fact. I realize I was being selfish. I didn't want to have to deal with some one else's feelings. By not saying anything, I was free to just think about myself and healing rather than what the other person would feel. I just did not want to think about anyone else. I also didn't want to hear lectures and alternative cures. What is done is done, and to my dear ones, I will try to figure out a way of communicating that respects us all. (After I do, will some one please nominate me for a Nobel Peace Prize?)
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