Medical Report

It's now been almost two weeks since my surgery. In that time, I've had two infections and a rash (which still hasn't gone away).

It all started innocently enough, I went to the hospital and eventually convinced a reluctant senior nurse that I really do have a tremendous aversion to needles. I think what really convinced her was the heart monitor beeping at a velocity normally reserved for runners at the end of a marathon, as she went to locate a place for the IV, even after she placed me on straight oxygen. She ended up giving me lots of tranquilizers to sedate me. Next came the numbing of the arm. This is the fun part where they play with an electric stimulator on the nerves in your neck until they get you to admit pain and get your arm to flop around in just the right manner. Then there's the injection. Fortunately, my nerves of steel were not really convinced the first time around that they should be numb, so we got to do this fun procedure twice. At last, came the surgery, of which I remember absolutely nothing, other than the intense discomfort I felt in my arm after anesthesiologist finished giving me lots of oxygen and told me he was going to inject the tranquilizer and that the burning sensation I would likely feel was normal.

After the procedure, I remember being intensely thirsty and wanting my friend to be there.

"You want us to call her now?"

"Yes."

After satiating my thirst, they called my friend, fed me applesauce and tried in vain to entice me with a granola bar.

That night, I started running a fever, which persisted through most of the weekend. There I was, in the beautiful Sunshine State, sitting under three comforters, with my teeth chattering as though I were in Chicago in the dead of winter. Something was clearly wrong with this picture, and not just the fact that I wasn't able to lie down because of the surgery - a condition that would persist for over a week. My ears and throat hurt and I just wanted the fever to go away and not come back. Only the former request was respected.

My friend was immeasurably helpful. Even though I was a terrible patient and she had to fight with me to pretty much do anything for me, I greatly appreciated her taking the time to cook for me and more than anything, I appreciated her company. It was sad for me when she left because I didn't know what it would be like to not have anyone there to help me or joke with, but the time had come and there was simply no avoiding it. Besides, I had my percocet and antibiotics to keep me company.

Next came the doctor visits. First I saw my surgeon, who informed me that the surgery did not go in any way as expected. The tendons that they thought were torn, didn't show any indication of an actual tear. Instead, it had been a shoulder abnormality that he had needed to correct. I now am the proud owner of some interesting shots of the inside of my shoulder. The next day, I went to see my general physician regarding the fever I still had. He found the wounds to be infected and gave me more medications. Several days later, I developed a rash. Still don't know what that's from. However, the Benedryl seems to be helping.

My stitches come out next week but the sling will remain for at least another two weeks. I'm still having trouble not using my shoulder and am often very sternly reminded by my body that I am not allowed to complete that motion at this time. It's a very harsh and unforgiving reminder that can linger for at least an hour. And the rehabilitation will take approximately four months, but hopefully, I will be better than ever once it is all over.

It's Not What You Think

Women don't seem to get it.

"I don't know how to make him listen."

"Stop sleeping with him."

"What!?"

"Stop sleeping with him and I guarantee you will have his complete and undivided attention."

"I couldn't do that."

"But with the way he's acting there is no possible way you want to be sleeping with him right now."

"But ..."

Women often forget that they have control. They forget that they have the one thing that every man wants and will do practically anything to get. They're like the Middle East and men are the United States, paying whatever it takes to fill 'er up. (If you can't appreciate a good pun, you need another cup of coffee.) And they completely neglect to remember that there should be boundaries; that everyone in a relationship needs to have boundaries and they need to not only set them, but enforce them. Boundaries are not being selfish; boundaries are the creation and enforcement of standards as to how you are willing, and want, to be treated.

"You need to create a list of things that you want in your partner and then a list of things that are unacceptable - deal breakers, if you will. The second list is perhaps even more important than the first because if you don't adhere to it, the list becomes merely a wish list and is no longer a set of standards that you feel you are worth or that you deserve. Once you start losing yourself for a man, you're on a long road of disappointment and unfulfilment."

There are women that I know that could never adhere to this advice because they would view it as "using sex as a weapon". I've read books that have case studies about women like this. They are usually terrible at being able to create and enforce boundaries and are usually willing to bend and shape for those certain lovers in their lives. They are described as people who have difficulty both creating and enforcing boundaries and because they don't have stable boundaries of their own, they have great difficulty respecting those of others - even those they care about deeply. Apparently, the books say, this is not a good thing.

What's a girl to do?

The important thing really is that you do exactly what you want to be doing, and not what you think someone else wants you to do. Sounds like an extremely easy piece of advice, right? Just do exactly what you feel like doing. It gets more complicated when what you want to do is please others or take care of or rescue others. Suddenly, the things that you really want to be doing involve satisfying the unmet needs of others more than your own. And when you put your needs first, you suddenly feel selfish or cruel. It feels completely unnatural, and angst takes hold. You begin feeling terrible about it. It eats you up, and you suddenly feel like you're just being selfish and you're doing the wrong thing. You want to apologize, to reconcile, to do whatever it takes to make that feeling go away, even if it means sacrificing another aspect of yourself - because that is, after all, the hallmark of your identity.

I know, I know, this post seemed to start with such promise - what with all the talk about sex, and now here we are talking about boundaries. What the fuck?

The point of it all really is that it's not wielding a weapon, it's not being selfish, and it's not being cruel; it is setting boundaries and adhering to them, displaying respect for yourself. It is through exhibiting respect and care for yourself that you are able to display your capacity to respect and care for others. (You cannot truly love another until you love yourself.)

Medical Leave

So tomorrow is the day that they cut me open. I'm told that my shoulder is going to be in incredible pain after and I'm not sure how manageable typing will be for a while. However, rest assured, my eyes will still be working and I will still be reading. I know this reassures all of you, as you all really only write for my amusement.

Write Something

"Write something, dammit."

"I know, I know, but what do I write?"

I have drafts of posts sitting in my brain and in my Google account. I tease at them and toy with them hoping that they will take shape and become something pretty, but they just sort of seem to languish there and fall to pieces, slipping through my hands as I watch helplessly. I don't know if it's a result of my impending surgery or just the state of my brain. Not all the parts of my body have been playing nicely with one another, as of late. I keep thinking there will be a civil war, but I'm hopeful an accord will be struck before anyone does anything too hasty.

Recently, I've been considering the blogger landscape, or at least the one that I have been a part of and watched over the past year. So many bloggers that I read when I started are no longer around. I don't think writing is the easiest thing to do for a lot of people, and I think, oftentimes, life has a habit of getting in the way of creativity. People run out of ideas or think that what they have to say is no longer unique or exciting. They, like me, get tired of sitting in front of a phosphorous screen hoping that they can say something new, that the words will form and bend to their will.

I have been thinking about changing the format of my blog. Maybe I could just talk about random things. Or perhaps I could write miniature scenes to illustrate ideas in my head. I think about the possibilities and I get stuck on repeat. Then I go read other people's material and marvel at their ability to write every single damn day. I have to remind myself that some of these people are writers - they actually write for a living, and writing on a blog is just an extension of what they do anyway. I write for a living, but my writing goes more like this: "Each beneficiary shall have the right to withdraw from the Trust the maximum amount over which the lapse of a power to withdraw is not considered a release of such power under Sections 2041 and 2514 of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986, as amended (hereinafter the “Base Withdrawal Amount”)." Wasn't that fun? No? Oh, never mind then. Go read Jill. Oh no wait, she's on vacation. Go read Stephanie. She writes a lot more about motherhood and breast feeding now, and oftentimes, I think only women still read her, but she's got some game. Go read Scott. He's smart and is likely to say something interesting.

Blogs are also not really like books. I have written a lot of stuff here, but the average person only reads page one. That's it. That's me. That's what they get, and if they "follow me", they get from that day forward, maybe. There's all this other material that I've written that people will never look at. If you read a book by an author you really like, you'd probably check out his previous works. When I read Me Talk Pretty One Day, I went out and got Naked. (That's pretty funny when you read it.) I read little articles and stories he'd written that appeared in the media. Why don't I do this with blogs?

Recently, I came upon a blog that I thought was really cool. (She doesn't have comments turned on because she's a punk and you should tell her how ridiculous she's being for not allowing comments right here.) I actually went through and read every single one of her posts. It was different because I'd never done that before. I didn't have to wait for her to post something new because there was always something new to me to be read, and the writing was really touching and poignant - very thoughtful. But then I ran out of material. It was like finishing a Harry Potter book. Now I had to wait. "I hate waiting." - Inigo Montoya. But it got me to thinking. Maybe I should read other people's archives. I mean here these people have taken the time to pour themselves - or an aspect of themselves - into the virtual pages that spring to life before your eyes. Maybe I should actually take the time to give it a look. At least then I wouldn't have to wait for them to write something new for me to be able to read something new. Or maybe I should just work on actually reading the Jasper Fforde book I started.