11:43PM - Wednesday November 18, 2003
Broken Pt. 2
So, it turned out I didn't have surgery on Sunday afternoon--they called and told me I was waitlisted until Monday, and not to eat or drink after midnight. I then proceeded to drink a whole lot of water and get some food into me post haste. Lordisa, I was thirsty. All I remember is taking a lot of Tylenol 3's, and Butch being really solicitous. The Boy had to go to work, so it was up to her to make sure I was okay.

It was a little annoying, actually. She was exhausted, I was exhausted, and she wouldn't leave me alone. I kept wanting to cry, adn she kept telling me not to. Finally I yelled at her and told her I could cry if I wanted to, and then she left and went back to her own apartment. I sniffled a few self-pitying tears, and then promptly got really hungry and thirsty and had to call her for help. Pathetic. Bleah.

Anwyay, the Boy eventually came home from work and relieved Deb of her duties. My stepmom phoned out of the blue and I spilled that I'd just been about to call the house because I broke my leg--she immediately passed me over to my dad and we made plans for him to come up and look after me. Then I called my mom and left a tearful message on the answering machine that later nearly precipitated her dropping everything adn coming down to take care of me. Mom's are so good like that. There was really nothing she could do, I had enough people to take care of me, so I told her to stay home.

The Boy had to take me to the hospital the next morning, and that was a big ordeal. They phone at 8am to tell me they wanted me in for 10am. Then and hour later they phoned and said they were ahead of schedule and could take me right away! The Boy was like a deer in headlights--completely useless. I was totally calm adn ahd to get us both organized. He was so fucking slow I wanted to scream and hit him. He actually asked if he had time for a quick shower! Can you believe it! Argh! Men are so not good under pressure, I swear. There I was, in pain, about to go under the knife, and I had to tell him what to do. I even phoned the cab.

At the hospital he was just as bad because he really hates hospitals and never has good experiences in them. I made him promise to be nice and not say anything bad, which was a good thing because the first person we talked to pissed him off, I found out later. Anyway, after I was all changed into my johnnyshirt and robe and had all 30 of my piercings out, I sent him away. The nice anaesthesiology intern leaned in after he left and said, "He's way more nervous than you are!" I just rolled my eyes and told her he really didn't like hospitals.

Taking all those piercings out was a pain--and I managed to lose my most recent one, too, which is disappointing. No more nose-bridge piercing for me, it just closed up too quickly.

The operation was fine, I saw my x-rays briefly and forgot to ask if I could have them. Waking up in recovery is always a bitch--I was in a lot of pain, but I'd repeated several times that I had really bad reactions to anaesthetic, so they tried to take care of the nausesa issue before it happened. I was pleased that they wre very successful. I'm sure I got quite a few shots of painkillers, and they gave me oxygen and stuff. I woke up gradually, and the nurses were really nice. My time in recovery was very pleasant, and I was very alert when my dad came to take me home. He picked up my prescription for me, got me some crutches and some gravol because I was feeling nauseated from being in a moving vehicle.

I'm now the proud owner of a 5-hole metal plate with screws. It's somewhere down near my ankle, and Butch is jealous. I mean, she's sad that I'm hurt, but she says she's always wanted a metal plate of her own. jeez, she's a freak.

I scooted up the two flights of stairs on my bum, got situated in my chair, took my pills and some gravol, and passed out. And that's pretty much where I've been ever since.

I've been hanging out in my usual internete hotspots, chatting with friends, taking lots of naps, drinking lots of water in an attempt to rehydrate. It's a bit weird having Dad for a care-taker because we've never been very good at communicating and I feel like he's bored. I don't have a lot to say to him, which makes me feel bad. I also sleep a lot so he doesn't have much to do. I'm sending him home tomorrow, and Nezumi's coming over to help me bathe. CurveGirl came over tonight to cook me a yummy supper of sweet potato soup. Butch and the Boy are going to be around on and off all weekend, so I should be good for a few days, and I'll worry about next week later.

I practically had to beg CG to come over on Monday night to help me with my piercings. My hands were too shaky to do them all myself. She really hurt my feelings when she refused at first ebcasue she had a lot of work. I mean, I understand and all, but I only ask for help if I really need it, and I felt really hurt. I only needed her for half and hour, I didn't understand. I don't think I was being unreasonable, but I could be wrong. *sigh*

Last night I fell on my ass in the hallway as I was trying to get to the bathroom to pee, and the Boy and the Dad didn't even hear me fall. I sat there grumbling on the floor for a few minutes, then scooted myself on my butt to the bathroom where I levered myself off the floor using the side of the tub. I was sitting there in the dark nearly killing myself laughing becasue all I could think about was, "I've fallen and I can't get up!" Oh man. Anwyay, all I hurt was my dignity, thank Goddess.

My pottery class sent me flowers--CG picked them out and brought them over with her when she came tonight. They're totally awesome. My friends have all been calling and emailing, and everyone's being really great.

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