Sunday
Jun192005
Indignities of Invalid-ism (Pros, Cons, No Coherent Order, Pictures, Beware)
Sunday, June 19, 2005 at 08:02AM
Throwing up, coughing, throwing up, not being able to feel myself swallow before coughing and throwing up so much that cough syrup and two shots of gravol five minutes apart can't stop it and finally, worried about excessive bruising, the doctor just shoots something into your IV to knock you out....
...waking up three hours later with no urge to cough. Or throw up. Or do anything but kiss the doctor.
Writing a note for my mother to take to the library with her so they won't imprison her for using someone else's card.
If there were a God, I know that he would phone me RIGHT NOW and say, "No, Jen, you don't have to wait a week before you can blow your nose, no matter what the doctors say. Blowing your nose will not destroy all their hard work, like they say. In fact, go ahead and blow it RIGHT NOW - long and hard and repeatedly - and everything will be just fine. I promise. You can trust me, I'm God."
The simultaneous and terribly difficult management of the urge to cry when you cannot blow your nose and your eyes are already puffed almost shut and the urge to scream when your throat is raw and your mouth is dry beyond cracking with having to breath through it but the cat has just playfully woken you up as he does all the time by jumping onto the large bruise on your chest and then butting you in the nose with his head.
That the military already (only) wants to know when you will be "fit for duty" - ie: when can we strap 20 pounds on your back, make you run 15 miles and then smack you in the face without it disintegrating?
People build you new steps and put up pretty canopies and fences and flags for you to make you feel better.
Even though the bruises start to fade, the muscles do not like it when you do not move them and consequently, your body freezes and you couldn't move even if you wanted to. But you have to. And it really fucking hurts.
Having to sleep sitting up. Which would be impossible for this belly sleeping girl without the lovely and highly addictive narcotics.
People saying things like..."Welcome home beautiful. "
"Gently teasing" (the doctor's words - not mine) what seems (and feels) like miles of gauze out of your own nose.
The cat won't let me out of his sight, laying on me and gazing into my half-open eyes ALL THE TIME - reaching out to poke me with a thumb to the cheek or a hand on my arm every time I look away as if he can singlehandedly keep me safe. Maybe he can and I just haven't woken up to that fact yet.
Having a nurse that tells you it was an utter delight to take care of you...
...and having a nurse who's an utter delight to be taken care of by.
And last, but certainly not least, having the reallygood/reallybad luck of faerieJen of the best plastic surgeon in town being the one who transports you to his private clinic so he can put Humpty Dumpty back together again.
Although I could have done without the description of how they did it.
Not even thinking, ever, that a cast is something they can put on your face because casts go 'around' something - until half your face is covered in one.
The realization that you recover so quickly from surgery and sickness not because you are extraordinarily fit or strong but because the sheer and utter mind-numbing boredom of recovery is worse than everything that came before.
...waking up three hours later with no urge to cough. Or throw up. Or do anything but kiss the doctor.
Writing a note for my mother to take to the library with her so they won't imprison her for using someone else's card.
If there were a God, I know that he would phone me RIGHT NOW and say, "No, Jen, you don't have to wait a week before you can blow your nose, no matter what the doctors say. Blowing your nose will not destroy all their hard work, like they say. In fact, go ahead and blow it RIGHT NOW - long and hard and repeatedly - and everything will be just fine. I promise. You can trust me, I'm God."
The simultaneous and terribly difficult management of the urge to cry when you cannot blow your nose and your eyes are already puffed almost shut and the urge to scream when your throat is raw and your mouth is dry beyond cracking with having to breath through it but the cat has just playfully woken you up as he does all the time by jumping onto the large bruise on your chest and then butting you in the nose with his head.
That the military already (only) wants to know when you will be "fit for duty" - ie: when can we strap 20 pounds on your back, make you run 15 miles and then smack you in the face without it disintegrating?
People build you new steps and put up pretty canopies and fences and flags for you to make you feel better.
Even though the bruises start to fade, the muscles do not like it when you do not move them and consequently, your body freezes and you couldn't move even if you wanted to. But you have to. And it really fucking hurts.
Having to sleep sitting up. Which would be impossible for this belly sleeping girl without the lovely and highly addictive narcotics.
People saying things like..."Welcome home beautiful. "
"Gently teasing" (the doctor's words - not mine) what seems (and feels) like miles of gauze out of your own nose.
The cat won't let me out of his sight, laying on me and gazing into my half-open eyes ALL THE TIME - reaching out to poke me with a thumb to the cheek or a hand on my arm every time I look away as if he can singlehandedly keep me safe. Maybe he can and I just haven't woken up to that fact yet.
Having a nurse that tells you it was an utter delight to take care of you...
...and having a nurse who's an utter delight to be taken care of by.
And last, but certainly not least, having the reallygood/reallybad luck of faerieJen of the best plastic surgeon in town being the one who transports you to his private clinic so he can put Humpty Dumpty back together again.
Although I could have done without the description of how they did it.
Not even thinking, ever, that a cast is something they can put on your face because casts go 'around' something - until half your face is covered in one.
The realization that you recover so quickly from surgery and sickness not because you are extraordinarily fit or strong but because the sheer and utter mind-numbing boredom of recovery is worse than everything that came before.
Reader Comments (11)
I can't think of a single other word to say. Except after seeing those pictures, the fact that these words keep appearing here at all makes me think there really is a God after all.
Welcome home, beautiful.
My best thoughts and wishes for a fast and full recovery of course.
Recover soon.
Best wishes…
david
PS. I am glad you are in one piece.
you're missing out on the really hard drugs, though. when my mom had surgery on her nose, they rolled gauze in cocaine and shoved it up her nostrils. i shit thee not.
keep healing...(duh)...the boredom will be worth it.
hey while i think of it jen, in case the doctors haven't mentioned it, you can pull the bruising out really quickly and safely with a cream called "Hirudoid". it also breaks down scarring. it's safe enough to buy over the counter, but probably a good idea to check your doctor first, in case it might slow the healing if you use it too early near any surgical bits.
Damn. Cocaine. I always miss out on the good stuff.
but vit.K etc is not much chop. better than nothing but still very weak. ring doc. and ask him re hirudoid. it's startlingly useful, and guarantees you won't have any little scar/clot clumps left over by the healing process finishing up too quickly by encysting clots rather than breaking them down
no really, ick.