So if you were in the least bit worried about me-I'm in good hands. (Charge nurse not pictured.)
We slipped out Sunday night for my pre-birthday fondue dinner. Just even getting ready for that-I have this drain thing hanging off me and it has to be disguised. Listen, it could be worse worse worse or even way worse than that-but off we went. There was a shiny penny near the back of my car-I pointed out to P who-I guess in an attempt at gallantry tried to pick it up-when everyone knows the magic lies in being the one who picks it up, right? I think he found my body slam excessive-especially under the current circumstances-but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.
Off we went exploring Chicago's crumbling infrastructure road-wise. Every single bump. POW.
And did I mention that up until that very meal, I'd only been eating toast.
On the good side, it was a thing of beauty to watch P navigate fondue for the first time. You never saw someone so wrapped in the challenge at hand. I honestly actually think he could patent his methodology of getting the carrot stuck onto the fondue fork-I have never witnessed such a feat of engineering.
Also on the good side, the meal and the accompanying flying over potholes ride home seems to have provided the perfect conditions to get my digestive system in motion. "Do you think" I gasped as we pulled into my parking spot, "you could get" pulling myself out of the passenger seat,"all the doors open so I can get upstairs now?".
I spent the remainder of the evening and well into the wee hours reacquainting myself with the bathroom. I think that's a huge bit about surgery and chopping up a body and whatnot. It all becomes about earning these bodily function type things you never give a second thought to-you kind of have to earn them back and against your own-best laid plans of experiencing time off work? Post-surgical sick leave does not a vacation make.
Yesterday turned into my birthday. We had watermelon.