Without the benefit of teeth.
Is that the post surgical Blues er whut?
Stop me if you've heard this(like you can possibly stop me now that I'm bionic-Pfffft. )but there's this very impressive billboard along the expressway. It's for Loyola and it says: We also treat the human spirit. Which is one fine chunk of copywriting-in my opinion.
I neglected to say-in the last episode-that just before surgery, we were visited upon by the chaplain. It was this sort of kooky art faire braceleted lady and she came in and she asked me what I wanted and I was like, uhh I dunno. What do you have? (I don't wanna miss out on anything that lies beyond my current level of imagination.) Maybe they have glow in the dark religious swag.
And she said she'd pray and I said, okay. And she asked me who she should pray for, and I blurted out something like: everyone in the whole wide world.
And she did.
Soon after I became a regular at Loyola-I noticed another billboard on First Avenue. It still said: We also treat the human spirit. Also in Melrose Park and I thought to myself, somewhere there's a copywriter with a tear in her eye.
We went for the two weeks after release/see the surgeon appointment. It was preceded by a sponge bath performed on the edge of our tub. (P got really good at it. He's available for rental. Operators are standing by.) One year, I wanted my bathroom to look like the beach so I bought a whole buncha pails and shovels and the pails came in handy for the rinse portion. Ya neva know, do ya?
Got ready, forgot my drain diary on the counter(I had been emptying and measuring output mornings and evenings since my escape.)went with 'shorts/t-shirt' in terms of fashion selection, and off we went.
You ever go into a place and you open the door and the air-conditioning actually kicks you back-it's blasting and you're instantly freezing? That was this. I am not usually cold so I was clearly off my game and the thing is, about being in a hospital lobby-there are so many more people suffering WAY more than you so get ova yo' sorry ass already, okay?
Went to Two. Some nurses said Hi because they kinda know us by now. Got weighed. Noticed a man-way after me-come out of the room with the scale with his shoes in his hands. I figured he must be new to the game. After a while, you just fail to care. That is after you use your-oh that must be because of my 500 pound shoes-joke too many times.
In the scale room there are brochures. Lots of them and we know who liketh brochures and that is P. We're flipping through and I say: Hey. Look at that guy.
P is way less amused than I am. Too bad.
So, another appointment/another resident. She does the run-down. Asks the questions. Gets the first peek at the scar. Lots of apologizing for inadvertent ouching. Everything is cool.
P stands up to show which gauze he's changed-I mean aside from Charge Nurse Grantley, he's the only one that's really gotten to look at anything and he did it, I must say, like a trooper.
Also-if you've never had the chance to witness his 'Tweezer Man' super hero character-you can't really say you've lived. He's got his hand patting my leg and he says to the resident: She's been through a lot.
The resident goes out, there's discussion in the hallway. I can't really hear it but I'm not really listening because it's become way less important to me to know things first. She and the Surgeon return to the room. He is so hmmm what's the word. Personable. The anti-pink shirt.
They set about taking all the sticky stuff off(you're not held together by bandaids-its like clear sticky saran wrap)and then it's a lesson for her about cutting open these stitches. I know there were 14 at least. And I figure, my job is to hold very very still.
He says nice things like, that I'm healing really well and he answers my silly questions which I'm asking flat on my back without the proper vocabulary and when he mentions something about surgery and I say, for the 400th time, yeah except I'm never coming back for any more surgery and he doesn't go all psycho jerk on me. He made a joke about what you should do if you meet a surgeon. Run.
So yeah, I was awarded the honor of taking an actual shower. Woo! And he refilled the pain prescription-with no jerky judgements. Hydrocodone. Good stuff. The rest maker.
He said I need to come back in two weeks. He said 4 weeks after that, I should be completely back to normal. And I asked, so, like uhhh what is it I need to avoid doing, so that I don't end up here again and instantly he said, hey this wasn't your fault. You didn't get here by something you did.
Totally dig that guy.
Food. It's been a theme. Do we stop someplace on our way back from an appointment and which category are we fulfilling. Like, a lotta times I'd have to arrive there empty so we'd get done and need food pronto(Einstein's Bagels in the hospital lobby). Or we'd need to discuss(Dunkin Donuts on 1st and Cermak)so we'd share an Everything bagel or get a couple of those egg wrap things. And then for the good news days, McDonalds for ice cream or very good days(like this one)Polar Bear.
We got there. It was a beautiful day. I wasn't feeling 1000% but it's the principle of the thing, no? Strawberry Sundae-P. Root Beer Float-me. And we're alone in this little counter area and there's some samba/salsa/something like that music on and one of us bursts out into a dance and the other looks around and she starts dancing too.
It wasn't this but it wasn't not this either.
You got me, right?