Continued Education

I learned a new word last week: snart.

Although, really, I knew it all along. Sad, but true.

Just So You Know...

...I'm very ambitious... from the comfort of my bed. Visions of housework, exercise and craft projects dance through my head. But as soon as my feet hit the floor the thought bubble pops. Which is okay, really, because isn't it the thought that counts?!? Ya... I didn't think so.

Every time I go to start I diet I actually gain more weight because I figure "well, if I'm starting a diet I better eat all my favorite things one last time". Clearly this is a problem.

I covered one of my couches in blankets, sheets and a duvet while I was sick. It was so comfortable that I'd be lying if I said I've put it away. I haven't. But my Christmas tree has been put away... it's the small victories that count.

If you set your pvr for Oprah during the week you will loose approximately 5 hours of your weekend to the queen of daytime. Four if you fast-forward through commercials. Three if you skip all the audience shots. Two if you skip all the a-ha moments or any time O's voice raises above 85 decibels which, personally, is my favorite part and I mimic on a far too regular basis. After all, it's *Oprah Winfrey*. (Imagine that in an Oprah Winfrey voice) I mean, really, you watch this and try not to do it. I dare you:



Fun, isn't it? I'm sure the people around me may not agree.

Now you know.

Clarification

Ya... we need to talk. Because I think there's been some confusion. Over this post. The post I have posted... and taken down... several times (sorry about your bunged up RSS feed, by the way. My bad), each time thinking "I want to be understood" and then finding the exact opposite has occurred. Finally putting it back up, figuring the damage has been done.

Now it's time for the repairs.

Because the way I wrote that post? Seems to be different than the way everyone is reading it. I never meant to imply that people don't do things for me. That is not what the post is about. At. All. I even wrote how I get "so much in return". From spending holidays with my friends and their families, family suppers, secret Santa presents, rides to appointments and sleepovers after surgery to friends helping me with yard work, painting and moving furniture, pianos and lovely yellow cabinets, I am in awe at all that I receive in life. And I am truly grateful.

The point of my misunderstood post was that I try to be just as nice to everyone as they are to me. To give as I receive. I try to be a good person. Granted, I may, from time to time, poke fun at other peoples expense and perhaps make light of situations at inopportune times but that's more likely due to my poor self-esteem and general awkwardness than being a bitch. I even try to put some (albeit, at times, minimal) effort into my appearance and I like to think I have a generally good sense of humor and a level head on my shoulders. I'm fun, responsible and would make a seemingly good catch.

So why haven't I been caught?

When I say I'm conflicted it's because I just don't understand. I try to give what I get. I don't consider myself any less or more wonderful than the friends I love so dearly. So why, then, are our lives so very (very!) different?

And it is that question I was trying to get across, without having to out-right ask it. I hope I wasn't too horribly misunderstood and my post didn't come off as ungrateful, mad or hurtful as that wasn't my intent. The post was not me saying that I give more than I receive. It was that what I receive in return is less than what others do. I'm not talking about presents or love, help or assistance. I get all that, ten fold. I'm talking about all the other stuff. From dates to proposals, weddings to children. I just don't understand what it is I'm doing wrong.

Besides writing misleading blog posts, of course.

And, so, I hope I haven't offended. Feedback has reminded me of how much I do have... and how truly devastated I would be if I lost any of that. And, so, my misunderstood post was actually quite enlightening, as it opened my eyes not to all that I thought I was missing but to all that I'm thankful for having.

Like all of you.

And you.

And especially you.

Don't ever think I don't appreciate all the things you do for me.

Kapish?

Well alright then. Shall we move on?

Let's!

On that note I feel I should tell you that I almost brushed my teeth with acne cream tonight. Given the fact my toothpaste is in a similar container and in the same drawer I should probably move the cream. But life is more exciting this way. Maybe that's why my teeth are so white and pimple-free?!?

It's Not Just The Limes That Got Squeezed

Tonight I made salsa for the third time in as many weeks. And while this may seem excessive the real point of this story is.... limes are $0.79 each. That's right. Seventy-nine cents. And while I'm more than willing to spend 80 cents (that's right, I rounded up... it makes the math easier) for limey goodness the point of my story is that when I made the first of my many recent salsa batches limes were only $0.50 each. And while it may only be a measly couple of times the fact of the matter remains... that is a SIXTY PERCENT increase!!!! Sure, it may not seem like much when it comes to limes and I bought my damn limes anyway but why is it that such a drastic change in price on little things is acceptable? I wouldn't pay 60% more for a car, house or small child over the course of 3 weeks so why is it okay for produce? And, ya, I get the whole yadda-yadda-hurricanes/frost/locusts excuses but I just thought it seemed a tad much.

Sixty percent much, in fact.

Conflicted

Some days (okay, a lot of days) I am horribly bitter. Jealous. Sad. Heartbroken. And confused. I ask myself, over and over again, how this happened. How is it that I am The Last Girl Standing? How am I the only one, of all my friends, that is alone? Unloved? How did I get to this spot? Past the point of being able to raise children alongside my friends. Sharing stories. Advice. Play dates. How did I get left behind. Why?

It makes me mad. At the world. At a God I gave up on long ago. And even, sometimes, at my friends. It seems unfair. What did I do wrong? Why don't I deserve what they have? Am I truly that horrible? Unlovable?

I take wedding photos, host baby showers. Bake birthday cakes, build change tables. I spend hours thoughtfully selecting the perfect gift for bridal showers, weddings, baby showers and birthdays. I do all this knowing I will not have the favors returned. And I try to be okay with that. I play with little ones and feel honored to have a special place in their lives as their 'Aunt', knowing that nobody else gets to cuddle and watch them like I do because they all have their own kids to tend to. I know that it is a truly special thing that instead of having only a couple of kids I get to have many. To love. To watch grow.

I know I have so much. So much to give. So much in return. But sometimes? It still seems unfair that at the end of the day, after doing so much for so many, that it is they that reap the rewards and it is I that still comes home to an empty house. And that life moves forward for everyone but me.

And these feelings. Of jealousy. Of thinking it's not fair. They make me feel even worse. Ashamed. Embarrassed. Like even more horrible a human being than I had originally thought I was.

How can I love people so much for being so wonderful... and yet hate them for it?

note: clarification of this post can be found here

How to Be a Winner

I don't get pinatas.

I mean, I understand the allure of anything full of candy. Really, I do. But if I were a kid (and I think we might all agree I am) I don't think I'd want to be the one to break open the pinata. Because, hello, by the time you realize what's going on, take off your blindfold and orient yourself in relation to said candy all the other kids have already grabbed most of the candy. How is that fair?!? Seems, to me, like the goal would be to NOT break the pinata. I mean look at this kid... she's not even trying to get the candy!?!?

Sometimes the best way to win is to not win at all.

I made that up myself.

I'm like Mia D'Angelo... except different.

Lying Down on the Job

Today I am proof that a person can actually accomplish quite a lot while lying down (insert inappropriate, yet witty, joke here).

Today is the first day that hasn't consisted of constant napping, waking every couple of hours only to have something to drink and go back to sleep (I'm kind of like a baby in this way). So today I feel like I accomplished a lot. Granted, all I did was sign up for curbside recycling and send a couple of emails I've been meaning to send for a while but, still, I consider that progress.

I've always felt guilty staying home from work when I`m sick but this whole recovery thing is a whole different ball of wax. I rarely take 2 weeks of holidays so I`m finding it pretty tough to be off work for an extended period of time for the sake of recuperating. Who knew having an organ removed would be *such* an ordeal?!? Who knew being able to sit up for more than 30 consecutive minutes would be such a milestone? And who would've thought getting my staples out would be the highlight of my week? But, indeed, it's glorious to give my belly a good scratch (I'm kind of like a puppy in this way).

I don't know what I was thinking but I thought this time 'off' would be great. That I'd get caught up on my tv shows, get lots of writing done and catch up with friends I haven't had the time to connect with lately, due to my work schedule. Sadly, I've done none of that. It's a sad state of affairs when you feel bad for not being at work... and bad for not working at home. Perhaps it's time I learn how to relax? Which is, apparently, much different from being lazy. Lazy I can do but relax?

Well that's a bit more difficult.

What's for Dinner... Lunch.. and In Bewteen?

Not being able to eat for so many days in a row made me realize that I tend to eat not because I'm hungry but, rather, because I have nothing better to do. Several times in the past few days I found myself walking to the kitchen to get something to eat only to realize that not only was I not hungry in the least but I couldn't eat even if I wanted to (believe you, me, that doesn't mean I didn't try). It's a horrible (horrible!) habit and I really (really!) want to stop. Even today, when I started to feel better, I ate far beyond my means. Why? Because of an insatiable appetite? A craving that can't be met? Or, perhaps, for lack of some other outlet to fill my time? Regardless of the reason, it's pretty bad when you eat yourself sick.

I'm sure this is only a middle of the night rant. That the laziness which prevents me from getting out of my nice warm bed to clean out my cupboards and throw out my junk food is really my subconscious preventing me from doing what I know I should. I can only hope this time is different because my body has clearly had enough. And that while I may not be motivated to get out of bed right at this moment doesn't mean I won't make changes.

The hard part is what's easy to imagine in the dark of night is often hard to do by the light of day.

TGI(V)F goes to Target

It's Video Friday time. And as wrong as this may be it makes me laugh like a little girl. I think this is just too gosh darn funny. I wish I could do stuff like this. I just can't seem to bring myself to.

I blame my Catholic upbringing. That and the uncontrollable school girl giggles. Whichev'

Rest, but no Relaxation

I just had my first extra-large double double from Tim Horton's in almost a week (that's Canadian coffee, for those non-Canucks). Perhaps not the best idea while recovering from abdominal surgery but the absolute gut rot I have right now is totally worth it.

Other than the fact my stomach still feels like it was punched repeatedly (how do I really know what the surgeon did while I was sedated?) and the fact I can't sit up (or stay awake) for extended periods of time I'm doing remarkably well. Heck, I even had a shower today! Which begs the question... why does the word 'bath' have a fancy version but shower doesn't? I can say that I like to bathe but what's the shower equivalent? From now on, I hereby declare it to be 'showeuer'. It's French(-like), it's fancy and it's only fair.

Perhaps it's a testament to my work ethic but I kind of feel like being off work should not be fun. Granted, walking up in a cold sweat or having the cat launch herself at my abdomen isn't exactly pleasant but I can't help but feel guilty when catching up on my daytime programming (which sucks, by the way) and having yet another afternoon nap. I feel as though I should be more productive. Like I should at least learn or accomplish something during my time off. I wonder if I'll be able to tell the point at which I'm no longer recovering recovering and, instead, am just being lazy? Perhaps I should practice sitting in a chair for 8 hours, as part of my return-t-work program? Better make it a Lazyboy!

I can tell I'm on the mend because the cat isn't being nearly as nice to me. Isn't it amazing how animals seem to know what's going on? I swear the cat was avoiding stepping on my stomach, although that may not be intuition so much as the staples, dressing, tape and hospital smell. But, alas, she seems to no longer have any sympathy. I guess the fear of me not being around to feed her has worn off.

Have I mentioned how much daytime TV sucks? How is it I have 61 channels and still have nothing to watch? How ironic that the shows I most watch are the ones I own on DVD (Friends, The Office, etc). And who knew Tori Spelling was in so many made-for-tv movies? Granted, they're all produced by her dad and they all stink something fierce but who knew? Am I the only one who can't stand to watch her and her now-husband together, out of a matter of principal? I tend to boycott adulterers, but that's just me.

And, so, tomorrow's another day. Perhaps it will even be the day where the number of hours I'm awake is finally equal to, or greater than, the number of hours I'm asleep.

It depends what's on TV...

Post-Op

Well it's official, I have one less organ, I may have stuffed gallbladder, see Charles De Gall(bladder) in the photo, but I no longer have a real one. Although, truth be told, I wouldn't be surprised if I'm perhaps missing more than one organ, with the extras currently being sold on e-Bay... because while I may not have gone towards the light it sure does feel like I was hit by lightening. You know that feeling when you go to the gym (ya... me neither) and the day after you feel all hunky dory and then the day after that- KA-BLAM!- you're sore as all hell? Well today is my 2nd day after the gym. It feels like I've done 3,000 sit-ups in a row (not that I would actually know what that feels like, of course). I better get an ab out of this when all is said and done, damn it.

All in all, though, it's been not an entirely bad experience. The nurses at the hospital were amazing and by the end of the day they all knew my name and made sure to goodbye. I even got a Popsicle and the scoop on where all the cute doctors are or, rather, aren't when the one nurse was walking me around and I asked "let's go to the cute doctor ward" and her reply was "honey, if there was a cute doctor ward do you think I'd be working here?". The nurses kept saying I was a pretty good patient as I rated my pain low and seemed to recover well but, really, it was hard to complain about some staples in my stomach when the 16-year-old beside me was having her jaw broken and I woke up in recovery next to someone who was trached because she felt breathing was too painful so she just decided not to do it. Plus, it's easy to keep your sense of humor when the cute old man beside you announces that his name is Woody.

I even tried convincing the doctor to let me keep my stones (because I'm cool like that), stating that it may be the closest I ever get to having children but, alas, I came home empty-handed. I wasn't entirely lucid but he said something along the lines of "yadda-yadda... toxic... blah-blah... disease control".

And also? I thought I was being sneaky when I weighed myself the morning of the surgery and again that same evening, the geek in me thinking I could subtract the difference to figure out how much my gallbladder and stones weighed. Imagine my surprise to discover I had GAINED 9 pounds!

Before I had a food baby... now I have a gassy food baby. *awesome* Needless to say, I'm a wee bit bloated.

All in all, I'm on the mend, slowly but surely. Writing this post is the longest I've been vertical since Wednesday (and, really, shouldn't spending so much time horizontal be more fun than this?) and I'm already in need of a nap so, clearly, this "time off" won't be nearly as fun, productive or relaxing as I had perhaps hoped. Who knew having an organ removed would be such an ordeal?!?

A huge thanks to each and every one of you for all your hugs and well wishes. No matter what time of day or state of health you've been there to lend an ear, give advice and let me know I'm not alone. And I can't thank you enough for that!

xoox

Tidying Up

Tonight will be the last night, in all my life, that I go to sleep with all my organs in tact.

Whenever I go on vacation I clean. From toilets to floors, litter box to dishes, I clean. Bed sheets and mirrors, bookshelves and furniture. I dust and wash, scrub and launder. I shovel the walk in the winter and tidy the yard in the summer. I do all this so that, while I'm away, I have nothing to worry about back at home. So that I return to a clean house, a nice reminder that no matter where I may have been and no matter of what I may have seen my home will look good and be a nice place to be.

I find myself cleaning tonight. Getting things in order. Making a list, checking it twice. Looking at the clock, counting down the hours. But this is no vacation I'm going on.

I'm having my gallbladder removed tomorrow.

It makes me kind of sad. To think that a piece of me will forever be missing. To know that things may never be the same again. That I'll have to be careful. That many of the things I once enjoyed immensely I may no longer be able to tolerate. It's the end of an era. It is a reminder of my mortality. And of my age.

I remember hearing the story of how my mom had gallstones when she was pregnant with me. I remember thinking it would never happen to me because she was old and I, naïvely thought, would never be old. She was 28 when she had her gallbladder removed, four years younger than I am now (don't do the math... don't do it!). Four years younger and she had already had 2 children. A wedding. A brand new home.

Like I said, it's a reminder of my age.

I remember thinking it was cool. The stones, literally, looked like stones. I took them to show and tell once. When my mom found out she promptly through the stones away. Apparently displaying one's inner workings to your entire elementary school classroom does not bode well with the person to whom those inner workings once belonged to. But, alas, I don't find it to be particularly 'cool' tonight, especially having just done a Google image search for 'gallstones'. Trust me when I say the only good that can come from such a search is loss of appetite, which is handy given the fact I can't eat after midnight.

I know people go through worse things. And, so, I'm grateful. For the advancement of medicine. For public health care (because, let's be honest, there's no way I would be spending money on myself in this manner when, let's face it, I'm cheap and my priorities are such that I would prefer a bed in a hostel over one in a hospital). For the chance of never having to have another gallstone attack. For my health, regardless of its state, because it could always be worse.

And, yet, I sit here. Wondering what is to be. What the next 24 hours will bring. Will I get bumped and be sent home, gallbladder intact, only to have another evening such as this, further down the line? Will I have scars that leave me disliking my body more than I already do? Will I gain weight instead of losing it? Will my life become a constant battle of not being able to digest things properly, unable to eat the things I crave? Or will I be one of the lucky ones who recover easily, nicely?

And the greatest question of all remains... will my doctor sneak in a tummy tuck, like I so kindly asked him to?

Only time will tell.

I will see you tomorrow. My gallbladder, however, will not.