Yesterday evening about 9pm my mom and I finally made it out of Philadelphia, and by around 12am we were in the Big Easy. At the moment I am totally exhausted (1am bedtime being by far the latest night for me in a couple of months) but also really really glad to be home. My whole family pitched in to dress up/personalize the guest room at my mom's house so that I'd have something, well, homey to come back to, and I have a nice space to rest and hopefully recover over the next few months. I am looking forward to seeing the BR peeps over the next few weeks :) but am so going to so miss all my 'illadelph kids :(. For all you young, impressionable minds who follow this blog purely for its pearls of wisdom - falling in love with two places and the people in them is great. Just make sure those places are 3 hrs driving or less apart. My heart is permanently stretched across the country. boo.
So, I, being totally out of touch with most things at the moment, was unaware that the Essence Festival is going on right now in New Orleans. I discovered this yesterday when our plane was definitely at least 2/3 filled with excited Essence Fest-goers. It's usually fun to be around a 'vibe' - a bunch of people all excited about the same thing, all looking forward to getting somewhere....but, not quite so much when you've been sitting up for longer than you have in 2 months and you feel like your stomach might come open (no, that's not really a possibility - I'm just paranoid). I had a middle seat between Eric, a young gentleman with a video camera who wanted to interview people on the plane and insisted that both me and the other girl on in our row watch his promotional video (for his Wilimington, DE-based rap group Free Agents) - the video consisted of about 20 minutes of in-studio time where the Free Agents were so full of free agency that no volitions could be tamed or turned and thus no rap was rapped and about 20 minutes of a short 'documentary' piece titled Fienz Gone Wild, taped from Eric's front stoop, in which Fienz and his lady friend, two neighborhood crackheads, have some sort of battle with a stick (Fienz) and a mop (lady friend). Lady friend seems to grow disillusioned with the whole situation 10 min in, throws her mop at a passer-by, and leaves Fienz to beat the sidewalk, trashcans, and the middle of the street with his stick (to little avail). Eric plans on shopping this around to producers at the festival. On my other side was Sophia - quiet and nice, she was somehow involved in the car wreck that ended the life of TLC's Lefty. Details were not forthcoming.
Anyway, sorry for the ramble - hope you're all doing well. - Mary
Friday, July 6, 2007
Sunday, July 1, 2007
Discharged
I was actually discharged from the hospital yesterday (!)(!!) - about a week after surgery. I'm going to be 'living' at the Penn Tower hotel with my mom for probably about another week until I have a post-op appointment (hey ho the staples must go) and am deemed 'able
to fly.' That's a little scary considering it's hard to sit up for two hours now, so flying home is going to be a bit of a trial.
The first weeks post major surgery - it turns out - are actually not the stuff of dreams, but I guess its an unavoidable part of the game. (What is this 'game' - how did I end up playing it?). The first couple of days post surgery, at least in my case, one has an epidural - this means you feel NOTHING! in a good way. You begin to think - surgery? what surgery? It didn't even hurt! Then they remove the epidural.
It is replaced by a morphine pump with a little button that is placed in your hand, and you are given every junkie's dream - morphine on command. You feel twinges, but they are relieved with a mild finger movement. Then they take away the morphine pump.
It is replaced by oral pain pills that you take every 4 hours. And everything changes. Surgery, what surgery? Oh. That surgery. That incision. Those staples. My pain medication is called Dilated and is pronounced very, very similarly to deluded, which is the way I felt about the doctor who took away my morphine pump for a while.
Now, after that rant - It is much nicer to be out of the hospital - a bit of autonomy and a lack of being woken up 5 times a night will go a long way - but being at home will be a huge step up still. Logan is in town this weekend, being nice enough to sit around with me while I
am possibly the most boring person alive, watching episodes of the office and drinking smoothies, so that is nice :)
Hope you are all doing well - Mary
to fly.' That's a little scary considering it's hard to sit up for two hours now, so flying home is going to be a bit of a trial.
The first weeks post major surgery - it turns out - are actually not the stuff of dreams, but I guess its an unavoidable part of the game. (What is this 'game' - how did I end up playing it?). The first couple of days post surgery, at least in my case, one has an epidural - this means you feel NOTHING! in a good way. You begin to think - surgery? what surgery? It didn't even hurt! Then they remove the epidural.
It is replaced by a morphine pump with a little button that is placed in your hand, and you are given every junkie's dream - morphine on command. You feel twinges, but they are relieved with a mild finger movement. Then they take away the morphine pump.
It is replaced by oral pain pills that you take every 4 hours. And everything changes. Surgery, what surgery? Oh. That surgery. That incision. Those staples. My pain medication is called Dilated and is pronounced very, very similarly to deluded, which is the way I felt about the doctor who took away my morphine pump for a while.
Now, after that rant - It is much nicer to be out of the hospital - a bit of autonomy and a lack of being woken up 5 times a night will go a long way - but being at home will be a huge step up still. Logan is in town this weekend, being nice enough to sit around with me while I
am possibly the most boring person alive, watching episodes of the office and drinking smoothies, so that is nice :)
Hope you are all doing well - Mary
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