NOTE: I wrote this very early upon my first return home, on my phone. It had an error I couldn't correct and I was unable to get to it before I wound up in the hospital again for another 6 days. I am publishing this post now, but keep in mind when it was originally intended to be published.
I am typing this from my bed at home, so cut me slack on errors that normally wouldn't occur. I have been home for about 36 hours and am already being asked by well-meaning friends when they can come and burden their presence on me, er, I mean graciously visit. I realize now there needs to be a list of things people need to be made aware of when visiting a friend (in this case, me) after surgery.
1) just because I am home does not mean I am well. I am well enough to be home, but not well enough to hang out like normal. I am still in pain.
2) don't ask me how I am feeling every 5 seconds. You know how I feel? Like I just had surgery! Save this question for a week or so out.
3) never just swing by unannounced. It's not fun for me.
4) please do not expect me to be a hostess during your visit. Plan to come by on the way to or from food unless we made plans to eat at my place together. Expect to serve yourself.
5) I tire easily. Keep your visit short or I may doze off on you!
6) I just went through a traumatic experience. If you don't want the gory details, be mindful not to ask.
7) at least in my case, anesthesia sticks around longer than I'd like it to. Crying over stupid shit isn't unheard of. Keep the conversation light and don't expect me to watch anything more dark than Care Bears or Pee-Wee.
8) I look as crappy as I feel. Be prepared and don't make comments.
9) don't take it personally if I am not ready to see you. Once I am comfortable receiving guests I will let you know (or make a general announcement)
10) although I'd never make you my nurse, you may have to help me out. Just be understanding and know I appreciate it.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
In less than twelve hours
In less than 12 hours my surgery will already be over.
I'm not going to say I'm not nervous because I'd be lying. I am.
I know I'm doing the right thing...for my health and on a socially-conscious front, too.
Keep me in your positive thoughts.
I'm not going to say I'm not nervous because I'd be lying. I am.
I know I'm doing the right thing...for my health and on a socially-conscious front, too.
Keep me in your positive thoughts.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Keeping an eye on the Pie
Thought I abandoned you, didn't you? Never, my love monkey's, never. Just when you think I've disappeared into the virtual ether, leaving you alone in the matrix of the grid, BAM! I pop back up like a bonus pinball.
Anyway. Less than a week left before my surgery and I bet you've been asking yourselves, "Wow, certainly Rachael has had so many missteps along the way, surely she would want to bitch about them on Offbeat Follies?"
Believe it or not, I've heard hide nor hair from anyone until yesterday. The ball has officially begun to roll and it's a pretty smooth, well communicated course. I have some labs to take care of either today or tomorrow (the only drama there being whether or not I have to hike it all of the way to UCLA to get it done) and I just got off the phone with a pleasant woman talking to me about anesthesia (probably the 2nd most source of anxiety when it comes to surgery as Me + Anesthesia = Hot Mess)
As we're coming down to the wire though I'm not afraid to share that I've been feeling a little...hesitant, shall we say? Not for any logical reason, oh, no, because these attacks of doubts are usually preceded by a visual assault of cute in the form of baby pictures from not one, not two but FIVE friends who have given birth in the last eight months. It takes all of my self-control to not post on their Wall and ask, "Tell me about how much labor hurt, how fat your ass grew, how much your infant looked like a squalling pile of alien goo and that you were swallowing the urge to scream KILL IT WITH FIRE!"
I need to hear these things sometimes.
It's very difficult to fight human nature and ones own biological urges to procreate. I think, once I'm through the other end of this situation and all is right with my world, I need to give a lecture "Telling your Biological Clock to STFU: Alternatives to having kids the biblical way."
Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?
Keeping my head on straight is going to be key this week, surrounding myself with people who will remind me that this is the best, most logical decision I've ever made and not letting my uterus dictate my actions. That selfish bitch.
Anyway. Less than a week left before my surgery and I bet you've been asking yourselves, "Wow, certainly Rachael has had so many missteps along the way, surely she would want to bitch about them on Offbeat Follies?"
Believe it or not, I've heard hide nor hair from anyone until yesterday. The ball has officially begun to roll and it's a pretty smooth, well communicated course. I have some labs to take care of either today or tomorrow (the only drama there being whether or not I have to hike it all of the way to UCLA to get it done) and I just got off the phone with a pleasant woman talking to me about anesthesia (probably the 2nd most source of anxiety when it comes to surgery as Me + Anesthesia = Hot Mess)
As we're coming down to the wire though I'm not afraid to share that I've been feeling a little...hesitant, shall we say? Not for any logical reason, oh, no, because these attacks of doubts are usually preceded by a visual assault of cute in the form of baby pictures from not one, not two but FIVE friends who have given birth in the last eight months. It takes all of my self-control to not post on their Wall and ask, "Tell me about how much labor hurt, how fat your ass grew, how much your infant looked like a squalling pile of alien goo and that you were swallowing the urge to scream KILL IT WITH FIRE!"
I need to hear these things sometimes.
It's very difficult to fight human nature and ones own biological urges to procreate. I think, once I'm through the other end of this situation and all is right with my world, I need to give a lecture "Telling your Biological Clock to STFU: Alternatives to having kids the biblical way."
Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?
Keeping my head on straight is going to be key this week, surrounding myself with people who will remind me that this is the best, most logical decision I've ever made and not letting my uterus dictate my actions. That selfish bitch.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Blog Carnival: Chronic Illness and the Flying Spaghetti Monster
Where have I been?
Bitch, where haven't I been?
Paris. That's where I haven't been.
In my room, sitting on my ass watching cat videos? Maybe. You'll just never know, will you?
Today's post is part of the September Chronic Babe Blog Carnival and it asks:
Let's hear how your faith—or lack of, or explorations—have affected your life with chronic illness. Have you found support in a spiritual community? Found a like-minded support group? Received criticism from people of faith? Converted from one belief system to another? Let's hear about it! And let's get that conversation rolling.
This is a touchy subject for many people, and while I have no issues giving my opinion, I want people to remain calm and realize it is just that: my opinion through my experiences.
I'm going to back-pedal now.
When I was young, my parents were pretty regular about raising my brother and I in the Episcopalian Church. Our church in Pennsylvania was especially easy going and friendly, which made Sundays less of an ordeal as it was for some kids.
However, I never felt a connection to Jesus and all of his homeboys. The stories Sunday school teachers told were merely that - stories. And not very entertaining ones, either, because they all featured men and had not a single kick-ass woman like She-ra. I only dug Noah's story because of the animals and the bitchin rainbow at the end.
It was the people - more specifically the priest - at my church in Gulph Mills that I liked and respected because anytime I was in the hospital he would visit me and call me "tiger" whenever he saw me. This guy was awesome-sauce. However, my interest in religion was just never there and I was determined to be indifferent.
Remaining indifferent to religion became more difficult as the more I learned about them, the more disenchanted I became. The hypocrisy, the crimes against humanity and the Earth itself - all of it left a sour taste in my mouth. Feelings of exclusivity, superiority, encouraging war with and shunning people whose ideas/beliefs do not match your own - no, thanks. I'll have none of that.
There is no way I can take any comfort from any of this, especially when I am ill.
Yet, despite my wholly disapproval of organized religion and mankind's idiotic marketing campaigns against one another, I am not an atheist. Atheism depresses the ever-living crap out of me and I'd never be able to not believe in something.
Believe it or not, I am a spiritual person. I do believe there is something bigger than me out there and I have accepted my own ignorance on the details as par for the course. It's OK to not know everything, to not have all of the answers the universe possesses.
I'm not sure if my congenital heart defect is part of A Big Plan for me - I am definitely open to the idea, but I am not going to place any money on it. Maybe it was designed thus, maybe it was just a shitty draw of cards. I don't dwell on it, though, because I have better things to do with my life - like watching Doctor Who and collecting Monster High dolls.
As for like-minded people to receive support from, well, I'm not posting any online advertisements anytime soon. I enjoy deep conversation on the metaphysical with people I know and respect, but when it comes time for the next surgery, the only support I want is from my loved ones.
I accept that people take great comfort in leaving it up to God when it comes to their health, or relying on a God Knows Best philosophy to see them through tough times. If that's what gets someone through their day, so be it. I just don't subscribe to it nor appreciate the sentiment aimed in my direction.
I have yet to receive criticism from people of faith (but I look forward to your letters after this post /sarcasm) but I also don't go asking for trouble. I am a firm believer in Agree to Disagree/to each their own and not go get up in somebody's personal space to force my views on them - be it on their doorstep, in public, or a comment on their blog.
Bitch, where haven't I been?
Paris. That's where I haven't been.
In my room, sitting on my ass watching cat videos? Maybe. You'll just never know, will you?
Today's post is part of the September Chronic Babe Blog Carnival and it asks:
Let's hear how your faith—or lack of, or explorations—have affected your life with chronic illness. Have you found support in a spiritual community? Found a like-minded support group? Received criticism from people of faith? Converted from one belief system to another? Let's hear about it! And let's get that conversation rolling.
This is a touchy subject for many people, and while I have no issues giving my opinion, I want people to remain calm and realize it is just that: my opinion through my experiences.
I'm going to back-pedal now.
When I was young, my parents were pretty regular about raising my brother and I in the Episcopalian Church. Our church in Pennsylvania was especially easy going and friendly, which made Sundays less of an ordeal as it was for some kids.
However, I never felt a connection to Jesus and all of his homeboys. The stories Sunday school teachers told were merely that - stories. And not very entertaining ones, either, because they all featured men and had not a single kick-ass woman like She-ra. I only dug Noah's story because of the animals and the bitchin rainbow at the end.
It was the people - more specifically the priest - at my church in Gulph Mills that I liked and respected because anytime I was in the hospital he would visit me and call me "tiger" whenever he saw me. This guy was awesome-sauce. However, my interest in religion was just never there and I was determined to be indifferent.
Remaining indifferent to religion became more difficult as the more I learned about them, the more disenchanted I became. The hypocrisy, the crimes against humanity and the Earth itself - all of it left a sour taste in my mouth. Feelings of exclusivity, superiority, encouraging war with and shunning people whose ideas/beliefs do not match your own - no, thanks. I'll have none of that.
There is no way I can take any comfort from any of this, especially when I am ill.
Yet, despite my wholly disapproval of organized religion and mankind's idiotic marketing campaigns against one another, I am not an atheist. Atheism depresses the ever-living crap out of me and I'd never be able to not believe in something.
Believe it or not, I am a spiritual person. I do believe there is something bigger than me out there and I have accepted my own ignorance on the details as par for the course. It's OK to not know everything, to not have all of the answers the universe possesses.
I'm not sure if my congenital heart defect is part of A Big Plan for me - I am definitely open to the idea, but I am not going to place any money on it. Maybe it was designed thus, maybe it was just a shitty draw of cards. I don't dwell on it, though, because I have better things to do with my life - like watching Doctor Who and collecting Monster High dolls.
As for like-minded people to receive support from, well, I'm not posting any online advertisements anytime soon. I enjoy deep conversation on the metaphysical with people I know and respect, but when it comes time for the next surgery, the only support I want is from my loved ones.
I accept that people take great comfort in leaving it up to God when it comes to their health, or relying on a God Knows Best philosophy to see them through tough times. If that's what gets someone through their day, so be it. I just don't subscribe to it nor appreciate the sentiment aimed in my direction.
I have yet to receive criticism from people of faith (but I look forward to your letters after this post /sarcasm) but I also don't go asking for trouble. I am a firm believer in Agree to Disagree/to each their own and not go get up in somebody's personal space to force my views on them - be it on their doorstep, in public, or a comment on their blog.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Exterminate! Exterminate! Exterminate!
You know what the BEST part about surgery is? When you get knocked the fuck out and you can get a little peace and quiet! Unfortunately, I am still just over two months away from that blissful moment and am dealing with all of the primitive screwheads that are supposed to get me from point A to point B but wind up giving me worse directions than Mapquest in 1999.
I tried calling the main office for the GYN since they appeared to have their shit together and asked if they had the Doctor's October schedule.
I try to explain the situation - that I see the Doc at the Poor People Medical Building but nobody over there knows any scheduling and I need to get my calendar in order.
So she interrupts, "What insurance do you have?"
ISN'T IT SAD AND DEPRESSING WHEN THIS IS ALWAYS THE FIRST THING THEY ASK YOU HERE IN THE USA? NO MATTER WHAT THE CONTEXT - I COULD BE BLEEDING FROM MY NIPPLES AND THEY'D ASK ME, "WHAT INSURANCE DO YOU HAVE?"
With a frustrated sigh, "Medi-Medi."
It was like I hit the fire alarm button.
"UH UH YOU NEED TO CALL THE POOR PEOPLE BUILDING TO GET HIS SCHEDULE! I CAN'T TALK TO YOU, THE POOR MIGHT RUB OFF ON ME!"
I tried to explain again but she kept interrupting me so I hung up on her before I wound up calling her cunt.
So I am back to square one, at the mercy of the mystical schedule that apparently NOBODY CREATES. Except that somebody knew - somebody called me well over a month ago and told me the doctor would be there October 10, 11th and 13th (dates I am actually trying to avoid scheduling, which is why I want the rest of the month)
Where is this woman, this magical, scheduling fairy-godmother? I do believe in fairies, I do, I do! Now, if I close my eyes, click my heels three times, will I be able to make appointments and schedule the rest of my freaking life?
I tried calling the main office for the GYN since they appeared to have their shit together and asked if they had the Doctor's October schedule.
I try to explain the situation - that I see the Doc at the Poor People Medical Building but nobody over there knows any scheduling and I need to get my calendar in order.
So she interrupts, "What insurance do you have?"
ISN'T IT SAD AND DEPRESSING WHEN THIS IS ALWAYS THE FIRST THING THEY ASK YOU HERE IN THE USA? NO MATTER WHAT THE CONTEXT - I COULD BE BLEEDING FROM MY NIPPLES AND THEY'D ASK ME, "WHAT INSURANCE DO YOU HAVE?"
With a frustrated sigh, "Medi-Medi."
It was like I hit the fire alarm button.
"UH UH YOU NEED TO CALL THE POOR PEOPLE BUILDING TO GET HIS SCHEDULE! I CAN'T TALK TO YOU, THE POOR MIGHT RUB OFF ON ME!"
I tried to explain again but she kept interrupting me so I hung up on her before I wound up calling her cunt.
So I am back to square one, at the mercy of the mystical schedule that apparently NOBODY CREATES. Except that somebody knew - somebody called me well over a month ago and told me the doctor would be there October 10, 11th and 13th (dates I am actually trying to avoid scheduling, which is why I want the rest of the month)
Where is this woman, this magical, scheduling fairy-godmother? I do believe in fairies, I do, I do! Now, if I close my eyes, click my heels three times, will I be able to make appointments and schedule the rest of my freaking life?
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