Out of focus. Pain pills. Valium. I saw the surgeon Saturday morning and asked him if my gallbladder really needed to come out and he said that yes, it was diseased. He said we sent it to pathology. He said there was no cancer. He said it would take a while to get back to normal. He said there’s a raw place on your liver from where we took it out. He is very kind. I pitched a fit earlier in the week to his snippy Stepford staff about paying copays I didn’t have to pay and guess what? A check was waiting for me when I got there. I picked up my mother-in-law and I cashed the check and we spent the money at the crazy crazy stupid purse sale where I had bought two purses the day before. So, one more purse, a new wallet. Linda Sue also got a new purse.
Bags. One must remain current. The important thing is that all these bags are perfectly stocked. I need only move my wallet from bag to bag. I need also to admit and make my peace with the fact that I will never be able to wear heels. Ever. Again. I can wear chunky solid based heels. I can wear stacks. I can wear a boot with a heel. I have my eye on a pair of Danskos that do have a low heel. I may have to have them. I may have to dream up places to wear all these shoes. Because I will be showing my legs and heels do wonders for the legs even a little heel as much heel as I can handle.
And who gives a shit? Yes, I have done a bit of sketching. Yes, I tried to cook something in one of my gorgeous red Rachael Ray casseroles. And it sucked. It looked like vomit. I can no longer cook and now I have to learn to cook for two. Which is a very different thing. So I bought the Test Kitchen Cooking for 2 Cookbook and because I liked it I bought the Test Kitchen School Cookbook. I convinced myself I am going to be a cook. And an amazing painter. All this most likely to never think ever of writing or anything writing-related again.
Also, I gained three pounds this last week. Which is no big thing but seems a huge thing when you have been losing weight steadily for the past four months. Boo! A pox on the head of all naturally thin people everywhere. A POX on your head if that is you.
So I am sitting here with ice packs on both hips and a heating pad on my back knowing that I just have to move through it. And take the pain meds like clockwork. Because I didn’t do that earlier and that was agony. So there it is.
I was looking through one end of the scope. Now I’m looking through the other. A long tube with light at the end. I hear death is like that. And of course birth is exactly like that. Maybe when we die we’re just being pulled back inside our mother’s. To swim forever.