People keep asking if I'm okay. And it's wonderful, and I appreciate it and I'm deeply grateful for the concern.
And I lie and tell them I'm fine. And it will be okay.
Because very often, they ask at work and it's quite inconvenient to have my eyeliner run, and blowing my nose makes my chest hurt again and it's just a bother. No, I don't need to "let it out." I realize that this is what Americans do, and it's a theory to which I used to subscribe. Nurses are used to doing this for our patients. It's called nursing.
But I'm not stuffing down my feelings, I'm letting them be there. I just don't need to feed them. That Buddha guy had some good ideas, so I selectively borrow some of them from time to time.
If you follow the link to the website, you'll find soothing, soft-light daytime photos of blissfully pregnant women curled up with this thing. It's brilliant. I can't speak to how soothing it is to a pregnant person, but I think it's awesome. It helps my posture at night, and sleeping has been easier.
See, through this....people who only had to have this surgery crap once will tell you it took them six months to get back to sleeping on their sides (for those that were before surgery. I've been doing it for a month. It is occasionally really painful. But sleeping on my back was annoying. Now I have a sqworm. Yes, I do have a husband that I could curl up with, but he is less bendy, and he's 98.6 degrees, which is too hot. The cats are hot, too, and they have claws and will sometimes inexplicably jump up out of bed.
Having pain. Like. Admitting it now. The ribs hurt. They've been hurting for about two weeks in a different way than they did before. Yes, could be psychosomatic. But there's clicking involved, and I've never heard of psychosomatic clicking. And it's different clicking than the bars. Sometimes I can actually feel a pinch from one of those broken ribs. Not enjoyable. I think it's my sucky posture at work, which I keep trying to do better with. Can't wear the pectus brace, because the point of that is to improve your posture by pushing down on the lowest ribs....which is a problem if those ribs are broken. Probably.
But three weeks ago, I was taking nothing for pain. No ibuprofen even. It was awesome. Now it's daily ibupofen at some point, and even occasional oxy at night. (Yes. I still have some left from April.) (And at the rate I'm taking it, I'll have a new brown jar of it before I finish the old one.) So, yeah. Pain is a bother. Weirdly dizzy today too.
I'm going to chalk that up to stress of this surgery coming, or possibly a psychotic break, and Buddhically (I think that's a word), let it simply be and not engage with it. Kinda like that crazy or mean or divorced-from or chain-smoking family member you have to see during the holidays, but over the years, you've managed to coexist with them on the same couch...without actually having to speak with them. I mean, everybody's got at least one of those, right?
Yes. I know there's an Olympic swimmer with pectus. This is awesome for him. Maybe after surgery, I'll watch that sport. (I've been watching gymnastics and synchronized swimming, which I did not know was a thing.) Hopefully, he's doing something about educating people that pectus exists, and fantastic for him that he's an Olympic swimmer with it.
I cannot swim. My parents put me through lessons, and everybody was all disappointed. They watched wistfully while my childhood (and current facebook) friend Amy Heilman overachieved me in this. (She really is a good swimmer.) My father is a very strong swimmer and he's tried to teach me. Owen tried. Bex tried. I have always blamed this physical dumbness ON my pectus, because my body is not that stupid in other ways. I've seriously biked and hiked and been a gym rat up through my early 30s, when I started to get the pulmonary symptoms. I never learned to swim. I do not float. I sink. So.
Probably I'll watch when I have a higher tolerance for being reminded of what I cannot do.
Don't get me wrong; everybody who's said something about it to me mentioned it out of compassion, and this is very much appreciated. I'll watch it later though.
God knows, I've got a whole lot more time to bond with the television coming. Cos. You know. I didn't just get two months to catch up on any show I wanted to catch up on. I've been picking at the Olympics. Because I'm hoarding it for later, because I already went through all my Law & Orders, Orange is the New Black, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Game of Thrones, RuPaul's Drag Race seasons 2 - 8, the Godfathers, LoTR, Hobbits, Dunes (the doofy one with Sting AND the cooler one), and most of my Godzillas (Toho only. Duh.) Bex had me try The Man in the High Tower, which was awesome. That was two months of freakin Netflix.
(Don't judge....I tried to read. I cannot read while on MS Contin. I just stare at the page, looking at nouns and verbs and not remembering the plot. It's freakin horrible. I have a house full of more books than anything else in this house. And I could not read anything.) (I do not understand why people enjoy narcotics.)
BUT! A bright point! RuPaul's All Stars Season 2 starts on the 25th!!!! *SQUEEEE* No, really, I'm so excited. So, one of my medical assistants, Jemaine, loves this show, too. He's leaving us to go to another clinic and I'm sad about that, and also sad that I was thinking I'd have nobody at work to pick apart my drag queen show with....BUT! Turns out my new nurse, Felecia, loves it too! :D :D :D :D YAY! (Balance in the universe is now restored.)
I don't know. Maybe I can learn to swim now.
So. Next week. Absolutely nothing to report. Just sitting on the metaphorical couch on Christmas afternoon, coexisting next to that doppleganger of me, full of anxiety and abject terror. Ooh...you know what would make that better?
Having a drink in my hand. Because THAT is how one gets through those Christmases. I'm going to stop talking now, and go fix that lack of drink in my hand.
I will update here again. Soon enough.