I’d like to believe I’ve weathered the storm of major surgery and all that entails fairly well. I’ve whined, sure, but I think I’ve kept it to a minimum. I have walked even when I didn’t want to, I gave up the narcotics early on and braved my way through with just advil, and I haven’t asked for (much) pity.
Well, now’s the time.
Last night, while my children were with their father, my father decided that I deserved a night out at a restaurant. A nice sit-down meal, at a place I wouldn’t take the kids. (That part was easy. I never take the kids out to eat.) He is one swell guy, my dad. I love him to pieces. And I do not blame him for the fact that both my stepmom and I had a very unpleasant gastronomical reaction to the cuisine at the restaurant we chose, you understand. It could’ve happened to anyone. But let’s face it, no one here is surprised that it happened to me. (Although I am sorry my stepmom was also afflicted, at least it saved me from searching the sky for my own personal cloud of locusts, this morning.)
It was a very long night. I spent most of it trying to decide which pains were stomach-related and which were surgery-related, and wondering just how much of a masochist I would have to be to go ahead and take some advil when my stomach was revolting. Also I had a bizarre nightmare-I-thought-was-real-til-I-woke-up where my father insisted that my stepmother had to be taken to a hospital… 400 miles away. Like I said; long night.
And the very saddest part of my sad sad tale that is so sad that you are in fact sobbing on my behalf this very moment? I missed the Haiku Smackdown for the second week in a row. Oh, the humanity!!
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to walk outside. I suspect a large piano or maybe an industrial safe is going to fall on my head. Maybe I’ll chance some advil, first.
Edited to add: just in case a large object doesn’t smush me like a bug, if you’d like to leave me Fact and Fiction Friday queries here, I’ll address them tonight. No reason to miss that two weeks in a row, as well.