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I had this idea that I would respond individually to all the people who sent comments while I was in the ER/hospital and during recovery, but I am amazed at how much of a struggle it's been to find the energy to do that, and I'm still behind in answering comments about the vid, etc.
So, this is my blanket statement (blankets, mmmm! It's cold today) of thank you to everyone who sent good wishes to me, and to the anonymous person who sent me the LJ rose, and to my friends who sent me lovely DVDs to watch while I was flopping around on the couch. And to everyone who has helped me out while I couldn't do much for myself. It's amazingly difficult for me to not be able to take care of myself -- I'm very restless by nature, I fidget and move around a lot, can't sit still when I watch TV (one more reason why I would prefer to see movies in theatres if it weren't for the increasing level of boordom in the moviegoing populace), and I have struggled with not being able to do the simplest tasks, such as vacuum the filthy carpet. Everyone's pretty much ignored my melodramatic whinging and done all kinds of lovely things for me, and kept me feeling positive with comments here in the LJ, and that's been great, and I thank you all profusely.
Things are definitely on the road to getting better, though, even if it's a slow road. The surgeon warned me that people often feel a lull or dip in their emotions post-surgery, that they can get a little depressed as their body adjusts to changes. I haven't felt that, exactly, because I was so effing sick that anything is better than that, but I was feeling kind of blue about not wanting to eat. My appetite seems to be coming back, though; I actually ate a lot yesterday, although I can't say much of it was very good for me except the fava bean salad (and no, I didn't have it with a nice chianti fff-fff-ffft). I don't mind in the sense that I've lost some weight, but it was weird to just look at food and feel queasy. I think my body also is having some sense-memory reactions that were affecting my outlook. I had mac and cheese (don't worry, not the scary orange stuff; of course it's Annie's organic shells and white cheddar) the other night, and normally that would be off-limits and scary, but it went down okay. Yay for no gallbladder.
There's some residual pain, and I wish I could take ibuprofen instead of the useless Tylenol they want you to take, but it's getting better, and I can lift things now, such as the cat, who I think was enjoying her respite from me hauling her around and squeezing her all the time. Now she's back to crying, "No moleste, por favor!" and last night had to run from the vacuum cleaner that I felt strong enough to take out and use. Though I really find it hard not to overdo it -- it was so gorgeous out yesterday that I walked up to the little convenience store near my house (one block up, four blocks over) and I was exhausted and felt like hell afterward. Lesson learned.
I really was, I feel, incredibly lucky in a lot of the medical care I got. I only wish that my sister had had that kind of looking after; I can't help feeling that things might have turned out differently. In the past decade of my life, I've spent so much time in hospitals that I find myself constantly amused by the hospital-based TV shows -- all the rooms are single-person, the hospitals clean and shiny (except supposedly on ER, but even then, it's a lot spiffier looking than anything I've been here or in California), and they have art on the walls instead of whiteboards with patient info, and they always, always have glass walls. The only place I've been with glass walls was the ICU at Swedish here in Seattle; every place else has at most little glass panes and white or beige/taupe walls with lots of black marks, gouges, holes, and signs of wear and tear. They are also always small rooms, whether the ER or in the patient rooms, and I've yet to see an ER like they have on TV with the long rows of beds separated by curtains. Maybe it's just a West Coast thing, but nothing looks like TV out here.
Also? Nurses rock, especially the ones in hospitals, and what a totally thankless, horrible job that people don't get paid even a quarter of their value for. For anyone on my flist who is a nurse, my hat is off to you.
I was going to do a vid recs post before I got sick, and plan to do that if I can scare up the energy either today, or more probably tomorrow. I also have things I feel I must say, though I am under no illusions that anyone cares, about this fall's Yanqui TV slate and the stuff I watched this past summer. The show I most expected to enjoy I am loathing (Studio 60, though I forgive Matthew Perry anything), and the show that was lowest on my radar has turned out to be my favorite so far (Heroes), and then BSG starts tonight, though I'm still unsure that I can handle watching it because of the misery and how hard it is for me to handle these days. Which I guess is why The Wire continues to amaze me so much -- a show about such a violent, ugly life should be depressing as hell, and yet... it never is. It gives you just enough hope amid the bleakness, just enough life and little acts of grace, that you never just want to stop watching no matter how much despair there is.
So, this is my blanket statement (blankets, mmmm! It's cold today) of thank you to everyone who sent good wishes to me, and to the anonymous person who sent me the LJ rose, and to my friends who sent me lovely DVDs to watch while I was flopping around on the couch. And to everyone who has helped me out while I couldn't do much for myself. It's amazingly difficult for me to not be able to take care of myself -- I'm very restless by nature, I fidget and move around a lot, can't sit still when I watch TV (one more reason why I would prefer to see movies in theatres if it weren't for the increasing level of boordom in the moviegoing populace), and I have struggled with not being able to do the simplest tasks, such as vacuum the filthy carpet. Everyone's pretty much ignored my melodramatic whinging and done all kinds of lovely things for me, and kept me feeling positive with comments here in the LJ, and that's been great, and I thank you all profusely.
Things are definitely on the road to getting better, though, even if it's a slow road. The surgeon warned me that people often feel a lull or dip in their emotions post-surgery, that they can get a little depressed as their body adjusts to changes. I haven't felt that, exactly, because I was so effing sick that anything is better than that, but I was feeling kind of blue about not wanting to eat. My appetite seems to be coming back, though; I actually ate a lot yesterday, although I can't say much of it was very good for me except the fava bean salad (and no, I didn't have it with a nice chianti fff-fff-ffft). I don't mind in the sense that I've lost some weight, but it was weird to just look at food and feel queasy. I think my body also is having some sense-memory reactions that were affecting my outlook. I had mac and cheese (don't worry, not the scary orange stuff; of course it's Annie's organic shells and white cheddar) the other night, and normally that would be off-limits and scary, but it went down okay. Yay for no gallbladder.
There's some residual pain, and I wish I could take ibuprofen instead of the useless Tylenol they want you to take, but it's getting better, and I can lift things now, such as the cat, who I think was enjoying her respite from me hauling her around and squeezing her all the time. Now she's back to crying, "No moleste, por favor!" and last night had to run from the vacuum cleaner that I felt strong enough to take out and use. Though I really find it hard not to overdo it -- it was so gorgeous out yesterday that I walked up to the little convenience store near my house (one block up, four blocks over) and I was exhausted and felt like hell afterward. Lesson learned.
I really was, I feel, incredibly lucky in a lot of the medical care I got. I only wish that my sister had had that kind of looking after; I can't help feeling that things might have turned out differently. In the past decade of my life, I've spent so much time in hospitals that I find myself constantly amused by the hospital-based TV shows -- all the rooms are single-person, the hospitals clean and shiny (except supposedly on ER, but even then, it's a lot spiffier looking than anything I've been here or in California), and they have art on the walls instead of whiteboards with patient info, and they always, always have glass walls. The only place I've been with glass walls was the ICU at Swedish here in Seattle; every place else has at most little glass panes and white or beige/taupe walls with lots of black marks, gouges, holes, and signs of wear and tear. They are also always small rooms, whether the ER or in the patient rooms, and I've yet to see an ER like they have on TV with the long rows of beds separated by curtains. Maybe it's just a West Coast thing, but nothing looks like TV out here.
Also? Nurses rock, especially the ones in hospitals, and what a totally thankless, horrible job that people don't get paid even a quarter of their value for. For anyone on my flist who is a nurse, my hat is off to you.
I was going to do a vid recs post before I got sick, and plan to do that if I can scare up the energy either today, or more probably tomorrow. I also have things I feel I must say, though I am under no illusions that anyone cares, about this fall's Yanqui TV slate and the stuff I watched this past summer. The show I most expected to enjoy I am loathing (Studio 60, though I forgive Matthew Perry anything), and the show that was lowest on my radar has turned out to be my favorite so far (Heroes), and then BSG starts tonight, though I'm still unsure that I can handle watching it because of the misery and how hard it is for me to handle these days. Which I guess is why The Wire continues to amaze me so much -- a show about such a violent, ugly life should be depressing as hell, and yet... it never is. It gives you just enough hope amid the bleakness, just enough life and little acts of grace, that you never just want to stop watching no matter how much despair there is.
