The cavalry is coming today in the form of a tiny, silver haired woman named Mother. Thank you God because I think I'm very close to my wit's end.
To be sure, anybody know what the end of a wit looks like? I may already be there and don't even recognize it.
I still feel like doodie and tomorrow is back surgery for Mr. Man. Of course, I will be at his side no matter how I'm feeling. (Along with my baggie of Cheerios and my thermos of Ensure.) Mine will be the first face he sees when he comes out of recovery. I will sit by his bedside all night, kiss his forehead a hundred times and while he is under the influence of intravenous pain medications, I will ask him if he thinks I'm pretty.
If he says yes, I will bat my eyes and pretend his compliment came out of left field. If he says anything other than yes... and very quickly, I might add... I will bat my eyes and angrily pinch his hose.
I might even pinch his IV tube.
Someone said to me yesterday, "I don't think your body was even close to fully recovered from thyroid surgery before you had your gallbladder out and that's why you're having such a rough time bouncing back. You should try and rest more."
Big old duh. Can you say high TSH? Can you aluminum? (Good, cause I can't.)
They continued with, "I don't think you should have any more surgery for awhile."
As if my surgeries have been elective, like a boob job or rhinoplasty. "Hey Doc! I'm bored. Why don't we start taking my organs out one by one?"
I'm gonna go ahead and file that last little tidbit under S for stupid things to say to Sher. Dammit, too. I was hoping to have Surgeon cut out my liver in celebration of my April birthday.
You'll forgive me if I'm grumpy. My world has been taking a one-two punch for a while now and I sorta am grumpy.
And pretty. Don't forget pretty.
I am the kind of person who believes there are no accidents. I believe people, places and things are either as they should be or are trying to be as they should be. For a long time I've felt like the Universe has been nudging and whispering, trying to get me to make the most out of this life I have, rather than always buckling up for safety and letting everyone around me drive.
Good lord, I'm deep.
And pretty. So, so pretty.
Lately though the Universe is screaming at me. To be fair, it screams in my direction on a pretty regular basis about one thing or another. Sometimes I listen and do what I need to so that I don't have to live with a stomach full of regret. More often, I plug my ears and recite the Pledge of Allegiance until it stops.
I think with all the drama and organ removal in my house recently, I'm pretty close to listening. (Whose a pretty girl?) I'm afraid if I don't get my world moving in the right direction, Surgeon is gonna tell me my heart has to go or the Vet will wanna remove the dogs' lungs.
I'm off now to put on some lipstick so my Mother will not walk in the door and tell me I'd feel better if I'd put on a little make-up. Please send Mr. Man good spinal vibes and as for me, your continued thoughts and words of encouragement will be appreciated.
Oh, and a couple completely unexpected and totally unsolicited 'you are pretty's' would be all right, too. I'll act like I never saw it coming.
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