45 More Minutes

Till bedtime for the girls. I don't normally watch the clock but I'm ready for some nice downtime tonight. Fidel's not home so we won't be doing our normal Friday night deal- catching up on the Tivo-ed shows we watch. I'm going to straighten up, take a nice long hot shower, and curl up in bed with a book and hopefully be asleep by 9:30. I would make a cup of tea and chill out in the hot tub but I have these incisions and I'm not allowed to take a bath yet so I'm pretty sure that soaking in a hot tub is out of the question.

I think you turn into an old Nana when you get your gall bladder removed. Happened to me.

Gas Crabs

Here in the Atlanta area, there is a shortage of gasoline. Most gas stations don't have gas prices on the exterior signs and the pump handles are covered with plastic bags. I've been conserving (napping a lot instead of leaving the house) so my tank of gas has lasted me a long time, but today the gas light came on and it was time to refuel. I finally found a gas station with one grade of gas, and got in line to wait my turn to fill my tank and empty my wallet.

I had a magazine in the car to help me pass the time, but the people watching was so exciting, I never even picked up the magazine. It's funny how crabby ordinary people become when they are in a line for gasoline. I was sweating the whole deal a little myself, figuring the pump would run dry just as it was my turn, but a lot of people were just plain bitching each other out in the parking lot of the gas station. People were getting cussed out for being too slow to pay with cash inside before they pumped.

Immediately to my right, two old old men pulled up in a panel truck nearly as old as they were and started pumping gas. Old Man 1 (the driver) pumped gas while Old Man 2 hobbled inside the gas station to drain his lizard, I suppose, because he hobbled back out empty handed a little while later. By this time, OM1 was done pumping gas so he went inside to do his business. He didn't bother to move his truck up to the non-working gas pump directly in front of where he was so that the people in the long ass line behind him could start pumping. OM2 decided to wash the windshield very thoroughly. Thoroughly and methodically. And slower than Christmas. The nice lady in the burgundy Honda behind him went from nice lady to raving she-bitch in the span of time that OM2 scrubbed half of the windshield.

As I was exiting the pump, I needed to cut through the line that was running the opposite way to get out of the parking lot. Because the 2 Old Men were finally being run off of the pump, there was a gap opening up behind about the third car. Since people were sitting there with the engines off it took a few seconds for them to pull up so I went ahead and pulled through the spot, apparently infuriating the driver of the 4th car, another old man who felt the need to yell at me like I was cutting in line and not driving on through to make way for someone else like I was actually doing. I had my window down and yelled, "Simmer down, you old bastard" at him. I can't imagine how ridiculous I looked for yelling that at an old man in a very crowded parking lot. I just don't know what gets into me. But I could have stayed there all day calling people old bastards.

Too Sick to Post

Forgive my lack of posting. I am pretty much over the gall bladder ordeal but now I have some horrible intestinal issue that makes Ebola look like a head cold. Obviously I'm over-exaggerating but I haven't been this miserably sick in a long time. I'm pretty much in a coma or praying for a quick death if I'm not in the bathroom.

And now in the time that it took me to write this, Moggie has just bashed her head into the front porch so it looks like I will be taking my sick sweaty puking ass to the urgent care center.

It never ends.

The Power of Prayer

Thanks to all of you who prayed for my flatulence. My next door neighbor, who happens to be a nurse, dropped by yesterday and was mortified at the amount of pain that I was in. She insisted that I walk, which was more like wobble and whimper, but it did get the gas moving. I feel so much better today.

Dear Lord

Please let me fart. That's all I want, to pass some of this gas that has me swollen as a tick.

I have had an absolutely horrible day. A friend called and asked if she could do anything for me and I asked her to come shoot me in the head or smother me with a pillow. I actually laid in bed and prayed to fart.

My next door neighbor is a nurse and she brought me some flowers this afternoon and had me up walking around and I was able to burp a few times and it relieved me a little. I'm no longer suicidal so I'd say I've improved today.

I Lived!

I'm home, finally. It was a really long day.

I'll post more later, need to catch a little drug snooze.

Are You Flirting With Me?

I met my surgeon this afternoon and he is a funny guy. He has a charming Texas accent and a fancy title on his business cards. He has diagnosed me with Biliary dyskinesia, which translates to your gall bladder has petered out in layman's terms. He said that if there was a textbook on gall bladder disorders (and one would think there has to be at least one of those somewhere) that my picture would be next to Biliary dyskinesia because I had a textbook case that a med student could diagnose. I didn't tell him that Dr. Google had increased his batting average by nailing this one.

My surgery is scheduled for tomorrow at 12:15 and I have to arrive at the hospital at 9 for the pre-op stuff and he wants to run my labs again. I should be nervous about the surgery but I'm so sick of this pain that I could remove the gall bladder with a fork myself. It's kind of like being nervous about the epidural when you are having a baby, but when the real pain hits you are begging them to slice your spine clean open if they have to.

I'm tempted to take my laptop with me since I'll have some downtime before surgery but all I need to do is have access to iTunes when I'm drugged up. I'll be dancing around in my hospital gown, flashing my white ass to the world. No one needs that, so you will just have to wait until I get home tomorrow evening to hear stories of how I have embarrassed myself.

Less of Me

There will soon be a little less of me. I'm kissing my gall bladder and releasing it to the wild where it can roam with it's own kind.

I had a HIDA scan on Tuesday and today I got the news that I have a non-functioning gallbladder. I have a surgery consult on Tuesday afternoon and an economy sized bottle of pain pills to hold me over until then. I'll be spending the weekend stoned and worthless. Who says there's not an upside to having diseased organs?

Better Than Xanax

I had my annual pap (that I've managed to dodge for over 4 years) yesterday morning, and I meant to take a Xanax before I left home to take the edge off of the ordeal. I forgot to pop the pill and it turns out as soon as the doctor came in, we started talking about shopping and before I knew it I was getting dressed. Quick and painless.

I got blown off for a lunch date by a friend so I went and ate sushi alone, with a book. And I liked it. Peace and quiet, good food, no rush. I recommend a solo date to everyone at least once a month. I might try a movie next. If YOU have never done a solo date, take yourself out and you might be surprised at how relaxing it is.

Real Special

This morning was my first real "free" morning, without any children. I had a room mom meeting at Tootie's school and when that was over I dashed out of there and found a pedicure joint for a little relaxation. The chick asked me if I wanted the regular or deluxe pedi so I asked her the difference and she handed me a laminated brochure that described their offerings. This is no lie: In the description of the deluxe pedicure, it was stated that they use "real special products" for the masks and scrubs. Maybe it's all the vicodin in my system but that really struck me as hilarious.

Today's Festivities

Today is the day that I have dreamed of all summer. Moggie begins her last year of preschool. To be honest, if she was beginning her first day of pre-trial intervention I would be just as happy. She has driven me beyond crazy this summer and especially the last month since her sister started school in early August and I've borne the brunt of her displeasure since then.

I'm skipping the director's speech for parents to hit the library. I figure that I might be able to get the hang of the whole public library deal without my two tormentors at my side. I need some books because I go in for my first sleep study tonight and they probably won't have wireless internet for me to entertain myself.

I think the person monitoring my sleep tonight will go down in medical history for discovering a new syndrome. I call it Jackson Syndrome. The symptoms are Jimmy Legs, excessive snoring and sleep Tourettes. I do this weird and extremely loud "UMMMMMM" grunt thing as I'm going to sleep. It's so loud that it wakes me up. Fidel dreams of smothering me in my sleep because of that grunt. He can live with the swish swish swish sound of my feet against the sheets in my dance of the Jimmy Legs, but he just can't stand The Grunt.

Nobody's Getting Dead

This afternoon, the kids wanted popsicles after Tootie came home from school. It was pretty hot so I pulled out two popsicles and gave one to each girl. Moggie, in typical Moggie fashion, managed to suck a big hunk of ice down her throat and started screaming about how she was choking to death. Her voice was all funny because she had a chunk of ice lodged in her esophagus but if she was talking, she was breathing so I just tried to calm her down to take a drink of water to help the ice melt. She didn't convince me that she was dying, but she did easily convince Tootie who broke out in wailing sobs while she waited on her sister to drop dead. These two are just too much to take. If I wasn't full of vicodin for my arm pain I'd pop a Bud Light.