Month: December 2010

I need a few minutes.  It doesn’t matter where I am or who I’m with; if I don’t get a few minutes to myself every day, I start to feel trapped.  I’ve noticed it at home, at work, on vacation – the circumstances don’t seem to matter.  It doesn’t matter what I do, either.  A few minutes with no demands on my time or attention is usually enough.  And I’m getting it right now.  John VII is sitting at the kitchen table with the instruction manual for his new TV, John VIII is in the chair with a book, Tom is sitting on the dog bed with a beer (he was sitting next to the dog, but she seems to have abandoned him), and Emily, Molly, Pat, and Tania are upstairs.  I’m at the kitchen counter.  Music is playing, everyone is occupied, and the house is peaceful.

We’ll see how long it lasts.  🙂

Less than a minute ago, I told John I was going to skip writing tonight and just update in the morning.  Then I felt the urge to publish something.

Something.

Mission accomplished.

The UPS guy totally came through for us tonight.  He tried to deliver something that required a signature today, and since we weren’t home, he left a note saying they’d try again tomorrow.  I figured we’d miss that, too.  I called the number and arranged to pick it up myself tomorrow, so I assumed that was that.  Around 8:30, Riley launched himself at the front door, barking his head off, and there he was.  He said he was near us anyway and figured he’d try again since it might be a Christmas present.  Nice guy.  So I gave him the last two chocolate chip cookies.  The good ones from Wegman’s.  He seemed appreciative.

Eric Carmen’s “All By Myself” was CLEARLY stolen from Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2 in C Minor.  For real.

<break for googling>

This is not an original thought.  Original for me, but not in the grand scheme of things.

I’ve been knocked out for minor surgeries twice before, and they were both very different from today’s experience.  The first time, I was fifteen and having all four wisdom teeth taken out.  I remember getting in the chair, and I remember talking to Bob the Anesthesiologist.  I remember they couldn’t find a vein to put the IV in, and they poked and prodded and finally, when they threatened to stick the needle in my big toe, a vein popped out in my hand.  Apparently.  The last thing I remember before waking up in the room across the hall is Bob the Anesthesiologist saying something about howling at the moon.  The second time was about four and a half years ago.  I had a septoplasty and I remember the doctor putting the IV in before we went into the operating room.  My next memory is of getting dressed to go home.

This morning, they waited so long to knock me out that I was a little afraid they’d forgotten that part.  I walked into the room, sat on the chair.  Waited.   They took my glasses off and put protective glasses on me.   More people came in, they strapped my arms to the arms of the chair (way to keep me calm, guys), and then they draped a hose over my face and told me to breathe through my nose.  Then they propped my mouth open.  I was getting more and more tense by the second.  I could hear all this stuff happening, but I couldn’t see anything, I wasn’t numb, and I was STILL AWAKE.

Then they stabbed me in the arm.  Seriously, they weren’t gentle.

Next thing I remember, I was staring at the light overhead, listening to noises I could make NO sense of, and then I remembered where I was.  And I TOTALLY understood why they won’t let you drive yourself home.  Ten minutes later, in the car, I was convinced I could drive right then.  (I was probably wrong.  Thankfully, John wasn’t up for testing my theory.)

I’m home, the numbness has worn off, and the whole right side of my face aches.  I’m supposed to keep an ice pack on it, 20 minutes on, 20 minutes off, for the first two days.  Let me tell you something.  It’s H A R D hard to do almost anything but watch TV when you’re holding an ice pack to your face.

My 20 minutes off is over now, so I can’t type any more.  (No, I’m not going to tie this thing to my head somehow.)