Friday, December 07, 2007

Most People Want the Same Things; Sugar, Salt, Attention

That's a quote from a marginal but freakishly compelling show, Dirty Sexy Money.

It's been, or it is being, a relatively icky day. The sort of day that sounds like Bleeeaargh. I had thought I would go back to dance class since it's not very strenuous but the icky oozing of the steri strips hasn't stopped and the doc won't even be in the office until 2 or 3 (the receptionist wasn't sure or clear) and who knows when he'll call me back and if he says I have to come see him that's slightly over an hour's commute to see him. I don't know whether I'd rather have him tell me to come so I can feel legitimate in my ick at the oozing (even though the weather is getting frightful and the commute is hellishly long) or tell me me that it's normal and I should buck up so I can just stay home.

The staying at home is somewhat less good since I feel like there's a kajillion things to get done (possibly because there are) but I feel like I can't/shouldn't do anything but lie at home on the couch and wait to see if my head is unzipping like a cheap pair of jeans. I've gone with the couch choice and I've chosen to do it unmedicated (long story, guilt got flung at me and I accidentally caught it, it was a reflex) and without icing the head (afraid the weight of the ice packs will cause more trouble). It feels like a million tiny Betsy Rosses are inside my face taking their sweet damn time sewing shit back together. Except that the feeling has migrated to my eyes (it's probably residual swelling since I'm not icing so the eyes are swelling microscopically) which is so intensely aggravating and anxiety-inducing that I kind of hope that my head is unzipping just so it will stop when I gratefully peel off my scalp.

Anyway, which is all to say that I'm having a little trouble focusing long enough to get any sugar or salt so thank god I have a blog so I can whine and beg for attention, eh? Anyone else as sick of my freaking broken head as I am? I'll pay you a hundred dollars if you can figure out a way we can stop talking about it.


  1. Oh, hon, cut straight to the fat and alcohol! I wish I could head over there with cheese, nuts, potato chips, olives, and a vat of wine. But we are heading for dinner and BAM. I hope you feel so much better, and soon. And I trust you have alcohol on hand? "Unmedicated" can only take a girl so far in this life. (Likewise, guilt.)

  2. Love Dirty Sexy.
    The Priest steals that show!
    Its winter time and thus means the blues.
    You had something happen to you, something big.
    And I have been carrying on and on about not having a job for two months now.
    Time for a new pony.
    So two months down the road I give you permission to feel icky about blogging out all of your feelings about having had major surgery!

  3. I'm not so sure that you should hold a competition. This head thing is foremost in your life right now. I can't stop fucking talking about Christmas, so I'm certainly not going to throw any stones...

  4. Since it's now Saturday am, I hope you are feeling better, but if not, I am so so sorry.
    Hang in there. We're all here to listen and care and we WANT to hear what's going on.

  5. Well if you really WANT to hear...:)

    I'm feeling some better now, though having a bit of a panic over not having gotten much of anything done the past 2 days but really, I did all I could.

    Thank you to all of you for ringing in with the support!