"What if there really were two paths? I wanna be on the one to awesome."
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Thursday, February 28, 2013
Not cool, Robert Frost.
A friend shared this with me recently, and it is just too good not to pass on.
"What if there really were two paths? I wanna be on the one to awesome."
.
"What if there really were two paths? I wanna be on the one to awesome."
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Sunday, February 24, 2013
Captivity
Scene: early morning in the family room at the Roper house
Eclair (stumbles in still wearing pajamas, rubbing sleep from her eyes): I had another bad dream, Mom.
Mom: Wanna tell me about it? What was it about?
E: I was in captivity. In a donut store.
M: Really?
E: Yeah. My kidnappers were really mean.
M: What did they do that was so mean?
E: They made me do fast-math, every single day.
M: Fast-math? Is that so terrible?
E: Yeah. It's really hard and I don't like it. It's boring.
M: Captivity in a donut store, having to do math. Sounds awful.
E: It was. You wanna know the worst part?
THEY WOULDN'T EVEN LET ME EAT A DONUT.
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Friday, February 22, 2013
Well, it's about time.
I've been gone a while, recovering. Just to show you how much I love you, I'm going to share with you the top ten list that I wrote....
IN THE HOSPITAL....
WHILE UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF HEAVY DUTY PAINKILLERS...
(my drugged handwriting was not easy to read, mind you, doing my best here.)
My gall bladder and I have agreed to a divorce. It was an emergency divorce, as our relationship deteriorated VERY rapidly. One day I didn't know it existed, and the next, it was a sadistic time bomb holding my midsection hostage.
Our parting was not amicable.
MY TOP TEN FAVORITE THINGS ABOUT BEING IN THE HOSPITAL:
10: Intubation: I was asleep during the intubation process, but the resulting damage to my voice surprised me. As a result, I can now do a spectacular impression of a 97 year old chain smoker.
9. SCD: Successive Compression Devices (I had to call the nurse's station to find out what these things are called). They go on you lower legs, giving gentle pressure periodically, in an effort to prevent blood clots. They also give you the sensation that 18 cats are living at the foot of your bed, kneading your covers.
8. "Liquid" Diet: after six days of absolutely NOTHING to eat or drink, I was allowed to partake of a liquid diet. For some crazy reason, I didn't find the IV fluid very satisifying... My first meal was Chicken Broth. It was the nectar of the gods.
7. Morphine Dreams: I dreamed my house was clean!CLEAN! As I have written this in my hospital bed, and have not been home to verify, I'm clinging tightly to my delusion. Each time I woke up, I was presented with a different delusion: I heard water dripping and thought I was underwater, once woke up to what I thought was Pack Meeting (just a nurse in yellow scrubs), and the list goes on and on...
6. Rubber-neckers. Just because the nurse left that door open doesn't mean you get to try to look up my skirt. Seriously?
5. Respiratory Therapy. It's like carnival game that you CANNOT win. Maybe if they painted an angry bird on it, or made it a team sport instead, I might be more motivated. I'm obviously not dead, so I must be breathing, right? Leave me alone, already.
4. Drugs. Drugs are a wonderful thing when you are hurting. It's good to have professionals who know which drugs work for what, and to have someone anticipate your pain and prevent it from happening in the first place (Kudos, excellent nursing staff!).
3. Frozen pizza, burritos "wit mardain bragnegz" (I have no idea what that means, but I wrote it down, so it must be something?) As long as these things are in the house, my children don't even apparently NEED parents. Eclair's last question to me when she called earlier wasn't about my hospital stay, or the surgery, but instead "This is my can of oranges, right? I don't have to share with anybody?" (so I guess "mardain bragnegz" is mandarin oranges on morphine.)
2. I think I must have fallen asleep, because there aren't any more after that.....
Instead, I'll tell you another story! When they rolled my back to my room (try not to picture Violet Beauregard, please), there was a small gathering of nurses outside my room. They handed me a piece of cardstock with four photos printed on it. They were pretty excited when they said, "Your doctor left this for you!"
It was four gory and disgusting photos of my gall bladder, and the stone it contained.
The gall baldder was the size of a ruby red grapefruit.
The stone was the size of a large avocado pit (and strangely enough, the same color and shape...).
The photos were too graphic to share (MOM! THAT IS SO GROSS!), so I drew you a picture instead:
So you can see now why we parted ways. The size of this monstrosity made me a minor celebrity on the fourth floor. At every shift change, the incoming nurse and assistant would come and introduce themselves, and by the way, can we see your pictures?
I rang for assistance in the early morning hours, and an orderly came in to adjust something for me. He wasn't from my nurses station, he said, he worked on the other side, but thought he'd come help because he had a minute, and they said you have some pictures?
Last nurse before I came home said she had seen one bigger. Then she looked at the photos, and said, "well pretty close..."
I'd rather garner noteriety for something awesome like growing an extra toe. No such luck.
So back to blogging the insanity that is my life.
.
IN THE HOSPITAL....
WHILE UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF HEAVY DUTY PAINKILLERS...
(my drugged handwriting was not easy to read, mind you, doing my best here.)
My gall bladder and I have agreed to a divorce. It was an emergency divorce, as our relationship deteriorated VERY rapidly. One day I didn't know it existed, and the next, it was a sadistic time bomb holding my midsection hostage.
Our parting was not amicable.
MY TOP TEN FAVORITE THINGS ABOUT BEING IN THE HOSPITAL:
10: Intubation: I was asleep during the intubation process, but the resulting damage to my voice surprised me. As a result, I can now do a spectacular impression of a 97 year old chain smoker.
9. SCD: Successive Compression Devices (I had to call the nurse's station to find out what these things are called). They go on you lower legs, giving gentle pressure periodically, in an effort to prevent blood clots. They also give you the sensation that 18 cats are living at the foot of your bed, kneading your covers.
8. "Liquid" Diet: after six days of absolutely NOTHING to eat or drink, I was allowed to partake of a liquid diet. For some crazy reason, I didn't find the IV fluid very satisifying... My first meal was Chicken Broth. It was the nectar of the gods.
7. Morphine Dreams: I dreamed my house was clean!CLEAN! As I have written this in my hospital bed, and have not been home to verify, I'm clinging tightly to my delusion. Each time I woke up, I was presented with a different delusion: I heard water dripping and thought I was underwater, once woke up to what I thought was Pack Meeting (just a nurse in yellow scrubs), and the list goes on and on...
6. Rubber-neckers. Just because the nurse left that door open doesn't mean you get to try to look up my skirt. Seriously?
5. Respiratory Therapy. It's like carnival game that you CANNOT win. Maybe if they painted an angry bird on it, or made it a team sport instead, I might be more motivated. I'm obviously not dead, so I must be breathing, right? Leave me alone, already.
4. Drugs. Drugs are a wonderful thing when you are hurting. It's good to have professionals who know which drugs work for what, and to have someone anticipate your pain and prevent it from happening in the first place (Kudos, excellent nursing staff!).
3. Frozen pizza, burritos "wit mardain bragnegz" (I have no idea what that means, but I wrote it down, so it must be something?) As long as these things are in the house, my children don't even apparently NEED parents. Eclair's last question to me when she called earlier wasn't about my hospital stay, or the surgery, but instead "This is my can of oranges, right? I don't have to share with anybody?" (so I guess "mardain bragnegz" is mandarin oranges on morphine.)
2. I think I must have fallen asleep, because there aren't any more after that.....
Instead, I'll tell you another story! When they rolled my back to my room (try not to picture Violet Beauregard, please), there was a small gathering of nurses outside my room. They handed me a piece of cardstock with four photos printed on it. They were pretty excited when they said, "Your doctor left this for you!"
It was four gory and disgusting photos of my gall bladder, and the stone it contained.
The gall baldder was the size of a ruby red grapefruit.
The stone was the size of a large avocado pit (and strangely enough, the same color and shape...).
The photos were too graphic to share (MOM! THAT IS SO GROSS!), so I drew you a picture instead:
So you can see now why we parted ways. The size of this monstrosity made me a minor celebrity on the fourth floor. At every shift change, the incoming nurse and assistant would come and introduce themselves, and by the way, can we see your pictures?
I rang for assistance in the early morning hours, and an orderly came in to adjust something for me. He wasn't from my nurses station, he said, he worked on the other side, but thought he'd come help because he had a minute, and they said you have some pictures?
Last nurse before I came home said she had seen one bigger. Then she looked at the photos, and said, "well pretty close..."
I'd rather garner noteriety for something awesome like growing an extra toe. No such luck.
So back to blogging the insanity that is my life.
.
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