I had started a post rehashing my adventure in the ER/hospital/surprise! Gallbladder Surgery! Many of you follow me on Twitter, though, and provided much-needed and much-appreciated support during that ordeal. Good thing, because I had the post almost finished, with Twitter excerpts and everything, when my computer shut down due to low battery power because plugging the cord into the computer is NO GOOD if it’s not also plugged into a power source. Ahem. Let’s blame the drugs, shall we?
Thus, I tip my hat to the universe and the blogging gods and whomever else controls such catastrophes, and say – Touche! I obviously should not be rehashing this series of events. Instead, let it suffice that I am home, relatively healthy minus one apparently unnecessary gallbladder, and that I damn thankful that I was able to pee twice today without someone measuring my urine ouput (In case you were wondering, I pee an average of 6-7 ounces per trip to the bathroom when I am drinking water throughout the day (and also receiving IV fluids). ).
(Yes, I know that period looks awkward sandiwiched between the parenthesis. That’s why double parentheticals aren’t grammatically correct.)
Let me, instead, tell you a little bit about some of the emotions and events of today. We will imagine that you are me, yes? Yes. You will.
First of all, being an adult and being in the hospital sucks. I mean seriously S.U.C.K.S. There is no other way to explain it. You feel alone. You want your mommy. You want your teddy. You want the nurses to stay and talk to you because jeez, the TV doesn’t even have a guide to flip through, you have to channel surf retro-style. In an effort to avoid these feelings of loneliness and depression, you will sleep more. They’ll tell you it’s the drug and that you’re sick and that you just had surgery but really it’s escapism.
This is actually a smart course of action and if you can spend your entire stay sleeping, I would strongly suggest it. I say this because when you are not sleeping, you may or may not call your husband and mother incessantly, annoying them. Also, if you are a mother, you may feel as though you are being crushed under the weight of the guilt you feel, having gotten sick and now sitting on your arse doing nothing at all except healing, which is ridiculous, you should be able to multitask that shit because your kids? They need you. Obviously. (Even though they are doing fine and hardly miss you.)
Once you’re done being crushed by guilt over being sick, you can wrestle with the almost as daunting guilt over being sort of glad that you are alone at the hospital, knowing that you are almost enjoying this, because damnit you can blog and watch TV and snack and Twitter and the only people who bother you are nurses offering you happy juice. Two words for you – AWE SOME.
Sometime in the afternoon, if you are me, you will also deal with the crushing guilt over knowing that your husband’s long-planned trip to Florida for a few days with his guy buddy and godfather to your most recent daughter J, will be cancelled. J will still need to go and get things out of storage, but DaddyGeek won’t be able to, because you can’t be left alone with the kids so soon, and there’s only so much your family can pitch in to help – they have jobs and committments, too. (Which, for the record, they would drop in a heartbeat if absolutely necessary, but the two of you decide together that it is not in fact necessary).
Then you are released, and you try to hide your shame over the fact that the eighteen year old hottie who is wheeling you down to the valet parking just graduated from HIGH SCHOOL, has freaking awesome hair and a gorgeous face and you checked her out and DaddyGeek didn’t (he was getting the car) (oops).
Also, eighteen-year-old-hottie has better hair than you right now, and you feel shame that you washed your hair yesterday with combination “Hair, Body and Perineal Shampoo”. Yeah, that’s right. Delicious, eh?
Finally, though, you will arrive home. J arrives shortly after while DaddyGeek goes to get the kids. DaddyGeek hasn’t broken the news to J yet. When that DOES start to happen, J gets an attitude. Shit. DaddyGeek is likely to cave under this pressure from his friend of 20 years, and you know it. You tell DaddyGeek and J to go get some dinner and work it out (read: DaddyGeek, go tell J somewhere else, I don’t want this awkward attitude BS in my home right now, I just had effing surgery.) You believe DaddyGeek understands you. Besides, you already decided on a course of action this morning, so it’s all good. J will get over it – life happens.
You are on the phone with your mother when DaddyGeek beeps in — on her line. You already know what’s coming. You advice your mother not to give in to DaddyGeek’s requests, and get off the phone. DaddyGeek calls shortly after. DaddyGeek wants to know why your mother is being so difficult. You explain to DaddyGeek that you told her to -because there was already an agreement.
One of the larger fights of your marraige ensues, over the phone at first, while you hold the baby you aren’t supposed to be picking up and feed her a bottle you weren’t supposed to make while awkwardly clutching her to your sore stomach.
When DaddyGeek gets home, J peels off in anger (unacceptable, we live in a family community of apartments and not only would we be possibly partly liable for any damage/injury/death that ensued as a result, damage/injury/death are also completely uncalled for. So is childish screeching of tires.) and DaddyGeek comes in. He knows he is in trouble.
More of one of the largest fights of your marraige continues, as quietly as possible, in front of the children.
There is crying.
Finally, DaddyGeek understands where you are coming from. (You are angry, by the way, that DG went behind your back and talked to your mother about a plan, also that he reneged on your original plan, also that you were not consulted and isn’t this a goddamn partnership?!?!? and also that a little pressure from J made him change his mind, and ultimately that he attempted to choose J over you and your recovery and your family. Attempted, because like any good wife/mother/partner, I steered him not-so-gently in the right direction. Perhaps with my fist and a bucketful of well-placed guilt.)
Once DG is facing solidly in the right direction and has fully understood the potential and actual consequences of his actions, apologies are made and we kiss smile at each other and make up go about the business of bedtime preparation.
Now it is bedtime. You are sore because you spent the afternoon and evening at home doing all the things you were NOT supposed to do post-op, and you are writing a quick, brutally honest, unedited blog post before going to bed. Well, you might watch The Closer before going to bed. But that’s neither here nor there.
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Also, you really missed your kids. A lot. And you have no idea how you are going to survive BlogHer.
I make promises to my children every single day. They do not all start with the phrase “I promise…” – no, they sneak up on me, with innocuous wording like “I will…”, “Next time…”, “Maybe tomorrow…”, “After dinner…”, “When you’re older…”
