Diamonds In The Mail December 30, 2007

I got a Christmas present from JJJ today in the mail.  It was an awesome, three-pronged present; hot green clutch, which contained an original drawing and a necklace I’ve been asking anyone, everyone for, for the past decade.  I finally got my fire opal.  Superstition says you can’t buy one for yourself…it’s bad luck…so I never did buy myself one, even though I lusted after the gorgeous gems.  In addition to a beautiful teardrop opal, there are three diamonds in a pyramid above the setting.  It’s gorgeous.  I’ve never gotten diamonds before.  I never knew that receiving an expensive piece of jewelry could affect me like it did, nestled in it’s antique-looking red leather box.  I held my breath when I opened it…no one has ever given me a box like that before, a tiny thing with real metal hinges so it doesn’t snap open and spill it’s treasure out.  I never knew I was the kind of girl that would respond like I did, with tears.  It looks good around my neck.  I stood in the bathroom mirror and moved my shoulders from side to side, slightly, just so I could see the fire inside the rock burn.   I am softening.  I can feel it happening.  No one has ever exhibited such a strong desire to be with me…when my other relationships ended, mutually, or not, we never fought much to hang on to them. One big fight, somebody walked away for good, and don’t look back.  No grand, sweeping gestures letting me know I Was Worth It.  Until now.  And I am having a hard time resisting, having a hard time understanding why I even should.  It’s very confusing.  And it makes me feel like I, too, apparently have a price, which doesn’t feel good.  What feels good is that She is continuously doing things that let me know she’s thinking of me, and that she wants to make it right, that she is trying.  I would have been happy with a letter and a drawing, that’s the truth, but I don’t hate getting the flowers or the Nice Pretty Things and the vacation for spring break (Jamaica!!)  I feel like I’ve spent my entire adult lifetime doing nice, pretty things for the nice, pretty people I’ve loved, and I never got much of that back.   No one has ever treated me like something they couldn’t live without.  No one ever loved me like her, and no one ever hurt me like her, either; I guess the two go hand in hand sometimes, in an imperfect world.   All I know is that we’re gonna have a helluva good time in Jamaica.   It will be hard to brush aside the Magic Times we’ve shared when we’re lounging in tropical locales, snorkeling in the Caribbean waters and spending lots of time in Not Many clothes.  Seduction isn’t hard when there are bathing suits involved.  I’ve always been a sucker for the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue, not gonna lie.  Palm trees and bikinis, I’m ready.   

“Dear Lord, I Mean It!” December 28, 2007

On the eve of returning home to prepare for New Years and my next-to-last trimester before I get my effing BFA, I am feeling like, for all my crankiness and general Grinch-like holiday tendencies, I had a great time these last couple of weeks.  Pretty ideal, really. 

I’m feeling great…I’ve lost about 28 pounds already, which is awesome.  Most of my incisions are healed–the big one, containing the Dreaded Port is still tender, and bleeding just a tad–and I’m off of the liquid diet (which, come to find out, can make a person appreciate the taste of food Real Quick) which is pretty exciting.  I haven’t gotten nauseous except for once, after my first run-in with the mayonaisse in my Grandma’s famous egg salad.  Not bad.  I can’t speed walk yet, I have to move at a healthy but slower than normal pace…the up and down movement gets uncomfortable after a while.  I’m still not entirely acclimated to the fact that there is a foreign body inside of me, and I can feel it, inside and out.  It’s not bad, just…creepynew. 

I spent some more time with the friends from high school after Christmas…that may have been the highlight of my holiday “vacation”.  They’re all doing so well, and they’ve (we’ve?) all turned into pretty cool, grounded, productive adults that can still have Real Good Times together; I appreciate the relationships that you can just walk back into, like no time had passed at all.  Those are the ones that endure forever, I think. 

Me and Dad took Little Brother (who I shall call…Tiny Man, because he is) to see the new exhibit at the art museum, a decent collection of expressionist work, mostly French, some American and English.  The two scene stealers were a particular Monet (the name escapes me) of a multi-story building set on a waterfront, and an artist I’d never heard of: Potthart.  His gorgeous use of a triadic color scheme in purples, oranges and greens made for one of the most gorgeous and loose interpretations of the ocean I’ve ever seen.  Tiny Man got bored about a half hour in, but he was a good sport and talked about the paintings he liked and disliked.  I feel some responsibility to try and help him learn to love art; he’s a math and music guy all the way, who also happens to be a good visual artist with no confidence about being creative.  He’s 9, and he’s interested in what I’m interested in, so hopefully I can be the Good Influence I aspire to be for my much-younger brother.  He’s a really cool kid.  I like spending time with him.  Alot. 

My mom and I have seen a lot of each other, which has had it’s tense moments, but we parted laughing and smiling with no hard feelings, and that’s saying something.  Mom and I don’t make good house mates.  I never have figured out why. 

And holy moly, it’s 2008 next week!!  It blows my mind every year.  Time is crazy. 

Jingle This December 24, 2007

This has been quite the eventful holiday weekend…one for the books. 

 My best friend and best partner in crime EVER got married yesterday.  It was beautiful.  She looked beautiful, he looked great, the ceremony was touching and short (always a plus, if you ask me) and the party afterwards was pretty great, too.  I got to see the people that I would have wanted to see at my 10 year reunion, without having to see the 600 people that I’ve forgotten ever existed.   All those people from high school (and a handful of middle school folks) that I can still connect with and have conversation with and still make each other laugh…it was all of Those People.  The ones I truly meant to keep up with, except life happened, and pulled us in different directions and there are just so many people to keep up with, you know?  I was almost emotionally overwhelmed to see the people I had loved most in high school, that I hadn’t seen in 5 or 8 years.   The best part of the wedding (aside from D and C’s joining in happy matrimony forever, of course) was reconnecting with people that I really like to hang out with and still live in my hometown…  this city had started to feel like a barren wasteland, with only two people to call to hang out with when I’m in town for the holidays.  Now I have friends here again. 

We’ve hung out for the past two nights; after the bride and groom left the after-after party (small gathering of the Close Friends) to return to their honeymoon bed, we moved the party back to Hometown, about thirty minutes away from the wedding site.   I was definitely a little shell-shocked, being with most of my gooooood friends from high school, and we’re all doing such different, adult things with our lives…we’re all 30, for chrissakes.  We have not lost our ability to party, apparently. 

Tonight, a smaller crowd reconvened for Round Two at a trendy bar downtown.  Man, I laughed so hard tonight that Incision Number 5 is aching like a motherfucker.  I LOVE those folks.  I can’t even remember why we lost touch.  One woman who has kept me laughing for probably a cumulative five years of my life, she was my best friend in 4th grade and I fucking adore her and we didn’t even have each other’s phone numbers…so bizarre.  I like that this Core Group of really awesome adults who shared the high school experience are still going out together when they all return home–and I’m most glad that D got married and brought us all back together again.  I feel like some good relationships got rekindled this weekend…that’s a really nice feeling. 

 Also, in being out at bars two nights in a row, and not being able to drink (and it wasn’t even torturous…again, bizarre), I have realized that I make people uncomfortable when I drink water as they sip alcohol.  I feel compelled to explain, to put them at ease, and dispell any wild rumors about Recovering Alcoholic before they can get started.  It most certainly bothered my friends more than it did me, that I wasn’t joining them in drink.  I’m not a hater.  I wasn’t eyeballing them judgementally, or even jealously.  I still like the Social Times, I’m not going to stop going out to bars, it really doesn’t faze me that I can’t drink, but I hope that other people’s reaction to my water gets less awkward.  It’s the first interesting social stumbling block that I’ve run across with this surgery, so far. 

I got to take the bandage off Incision Number 5 last night…it had been on for ten days, some super-adhesive that was mostly clear plastic to keep the 3″x1″ bandage in place.  I guess the surgeon glued the bandage to me because it definitely didn’t want to come off by itself.  And then I almost passed out.  Or vomited.  Or both.  It is a bigger incision than I had expected…all the visible incisions are hardly even half an inch long; this previously hidden incision is about three inches long.  It’s right in the dead center of my abdomen, about four inches under my breastbone.  Right in the middle. 

When I woke up in recovery, my first question was Whats This Thing Here? in response to the only bandage, and they told me it was the port, and I said, slurred and groggy, “You couldn’t have put that somewhere else?”.  It was an appropriate estimation of the situation.  I’d still like to know why they couldn’t have scooted that one off to the side.  I can feel the port inside of me now…it’s shape and contour. 

That’s a Really. Weird.  Sensation.  

Also, I ate solid food for the first time in two and a half weeks.  It was delicious and wonderful.  I ate one egg, scrambled, and an egg has never tasted so good.  And then I was stuffedfull for four hours.  I’m still not used to that. 

Holiday Magic December 21, 2007

I finished my christmas shopping today, after only two intense days of panic and bludering through packed shops…I don’t really do Christmas very well; I leave all gift-buying or making until the very end, when I have no time and little money.  Christmas always comes at the end of the Federal Loan Check that is my lifeline and almost-sole source of income right now.  I feel like a douche, mostly, because I’m not one for overblown traditions and I can’t get inspired by the religious reverence.  Jesus is Not the Reason for My Season.  Jesus’ birthday means I get to see my cousins, play cards with my Mom and go on walks with the new family dog (my new best friend).  The commercialized celebration of a religion I don’t adhere to…it just leaves something to be desired.  Plus, I like giving spontaneous gifts way more…

Me and Mintos (the dog) had Magic Times today on a walk to the grounds of the loony bin that backs up to my parents property.  It was crisp and clear, with gorgeous perfect late afternoon sun, and we went tromping through the woods to get to the Big Field, where she can run off the leash.  Mintos is a corgy mix my stepmom picked up at the pound, and I am in love with her.  She’s got a hound-ish face with Corgi ears and shape and size, with a corkscrew tail, and the most adorable way of smiling when you get home; she jacks the left side of her mouth up in a big smile and winks.  So, we’re walking home after fetching sticks and playing with two other dogs, and all of a sudden, the bamboo grove 50 feet in front of us explodes as two young, cottontail deer bound out into the wooded area we were in.  Mintos wanted to chase them so bad, she made herself puke a little, dancing at the end of the leash, but then she settled on her hind legs, doing a little dance, and we watched these two deer bound around, playing, for about ten minutes.  It was one of the most magical things I’ve ever seen.  Pure, graceful, perfect nature, spontaneously occuring inside city limits, in a populated neighborhood where no deer could survive, and Mintos and I were the only ones who got to enjoy it.  One of the cottontails (probably male) had a crisp, snowy white tail that must have been a foot and half tall…I could see flashes of white flying through the air, even when they were running so fast that it became hard to focus on them, the little graybrown blurs.  They both cleared the long-abandoned road running through the clearing, in one single bound, curb to curb, with the most delightful noise of clacking hooves and crunching leaves.  It was idyllic, for a moment. 

Also, I woke up laughing this morning because a Toll House chocolate chip cookie commercial was literally playing in my dreams.  I woke up just as the hot-out-of-the-oven cookie was broken in half, and the long strings of gooey chocolate hung between the two halves.  The good part is, I could taste it in my dreams.  I might not be able to eat them in real life anymore, but I could still taste them in my dreams.  It was sweet. 

The Progress December 20, 2007

I have lost twenty five pounds already.  Woah, dude.  I knew it would go quick, but it surprised me, still.  I’m going to have to go clothes shopping much sooner than I anticipated….Oh, darn!!! 

 My good meds have run out, and I find myself forgetting to take Tylenol or Advil because the pain is so minimal (lovin’ that…), and I have totally lost all craving for food, so my protein drinks and tomato soup are actually enjoyable.  Especially the soup.  Every time it hits my lips, I can’t help thinking, Damn This Soup Is Goooood.  It’s weird. 

We’ll see how torturous Grandma’s house is…the land of everything southern that I like to eat.  And of course I can’t get back on solids until the day after xmas, the day we leave.  That’s okay…at least I’ll be the only one who doesn’t gain ten pounds this year.  That’s something. 

But I will miss my casseroles.  Sigh. 

Tomato Soup and Painkillers December 18, 2007

These two things are sustaining me, currently.  I feel pretty good….there is almost no pain at all sitting up from lying, or standing up from sitting, which were the two biggest sources of discomfort five days ago.  The healing is pretty rapid, which is just fine by me, and the weight loss is already becoming apparent.  My clothes fit me differently already and my face and hands look thinner.  I have completely lost my interest in food; I have to remind myself to make some soup or drink a protein drink, because I am the opposite of hungry all the time, without being nauseous.  I think I may never be hungry again.  That’s a bizarre thought.  The objective is to be able to eat three meals a day, of healthy content and small size, and never, ever get hungry between meals.  That sounds reasonable enough, I suppose.    I can’t get this new formatting to let me leave space between paragraphs…that’s frustrating.    So, I’ve been in contact with Jing Jang Jane again, recently, due to the surgery and not knowing for sure that I would still be alive…and things are confused again.  She is coming into Alot Of Money in a few months (from her real fathers estate) and says she wants to be my Sugar Mama.  I am weak to resist when someone that I loved (and had the best sex EVER with) tells me they want to take me somewhere tropical for spring break, then two and a half months later, take me somewhere exotic for a post-graduation adventure, all expenses paid.  I mean, I’m gonna go if she’s really gonna take me.  It will be hard not to immediately get back together with her.  It will be hard not to want all those same things I wanted less than a year ago, and it will be particularly hard to keep myself from forgetting why it all ended.  Ladies are a complicated affair.  It has been good to talk to her again, though, that’s for sure.  I’m not angry anymore, she’s trying really hard (including therapy twice a week!!) and there is a degree of honesty Now that we didn’t have Then.  Progress, at least.  She’s a comfort to me, and I like talking to her, so I’m trying to avoid feeling like a chump for letting her reel me in again.  Kinda sorta.  I’m like a fish that’s on the hook but still in the water and you can’t see what kind it is, and you know that it could still get away if you don’t maneuver just right.  Yeah, that’s me.  Except skinnier.   

They Weren’t Lying December 16, 2007

I didn’t really believe my doctors when they told me I’m be up and around in 2 to 3 days.  In my head, I imagined I wouldn’t want to do anything but lie around for a week, at least.  Luckily, miraculously (in my head), I felt so good yesterday that I drove myself home so I could sleep in my bed, and lounge on my couch.  Today, there is hardly any pain, although I still can’t bend or twist at the waist.  Getting dressed probably looks pretty amusing, but that aside, things aren’t bad.  The pain is totally manageable, and the only thing that really, consistently reminds me of it’s presence is Incision Number 5, which is where the doctors inserted a port into my abdomen, so that saline can be added or removed from my lap-band.    SIDE NOTE: So, when I have to go in for a ‘fill’ in 6 weeks (more saline), they are going to do said ‘fill’ by inserting a large needle into the port that lives in the dead center of my abdomen.  I am not, I repeat, NOT okay with this.    Wednesday was mostly a blur; I remember coming to in the recovery room with a woman moaning on my left side…”Mrs. Allen, you have to push the button to get the pain medication.  Push the button, Mrs. Allen.  You have to push the button”…and a young man, 26, to my right that kept coughing/throwing up blood…”I’m scared, is this normal? I can’t stop…where is this blood coming from???”.  That was the worst part of the entire experience.  The staff that attended me were all nice and helpful and gentle and usually funny.   We left on Thursday just as soon as they discharged me from the hospital, because the notion of being trapped in Detroit by the massive snow storm burying the Midwest and Northeast was just too much to bear.  It hurt getting into the car that first time.  Really Bad.  Thankfully, the drugs are good, and I slept til we stopped in KY for the evening, and then I slept some more.  I could only sleep for stretches of two or three hours at a time, but that was probably good…that’s how often I decided I was supposed to take my pain meds.   Friday, we got up at 10 and drove the rest of the way home.  I slept the whole way.  The sun came back out, after five days of clouds.    Today, I feel good.  It is strange and unusual to me that I become full after 2/3 of a Jello snack cup.  And when I say full, I mean fulllllllllll.   Like turkey, stuffing and green bean casserole full.  It’s crazy.  I have been on clear liquids since the operation, and today I got to ‘move up’ to protein drinks and full liquids (tomato soup, essentially).  I think about all the foods I would like to eat right now, because it has been a while since I’ve had a solid meal, but then I think of actually eating something, and it’s not so appealing.  I guess the surgery is already working.   The only other really freaky part was that I had to give myself shots in my stomach, blood thinners.  The needles were, mercifully, the smallest gauge needles I’ve ever seen, and were connected with no real physical sensation aside from pressure, but the visuals…the visuals are hard to get over.  I don’t like injections, never have, and as such, when the nurse came in at 1 a.m. on my first evening of recovery, with a needle she wanted to put in my stomach, And Then tells me I have to do the same thing to myself for the next five days, I was not thrilled.  I got whiny, in fact.  I told her I wouldn’t do it.  She said, “Girl, you better make friends with this needle.  Look here!”  So I did.  It wasn’t as bad as I had imagined.   The worst is over, that’s the most comforting thought to me.  My innards feel like they’ve been manhandled and bruised, but things are settling in there, and I can already see the weight loss in my face.  It’s hard to constantly sip water (I was more of a guzzler when I got thirsty), but I think this thing is gonna turn out fine, after all, due in no small part, I’m sure, to all the people who were wishing me well.  Those things matter, I think!!  If my recovery speed is any indication, the Good Thoughts matter a lot!  So thanks.   I’m gonna try some tomato soup, although I never was much of a fan without a grilled cheese to dip.     

2,000,000 Sit Ups December 14, 2007

It feels like I spent the last week doing nothing but crunches.  However, I am on guuuuuud drugs, so I can only feel it when I stand up, or sit up from lying down.  I’m alive.  I’m in pretty good spirits.  My mom is driving me crazy, but we will be home this afternoon.  Hallejulah!!!   

Detroit Rock City December 11, 2007

My mom and I made it to Michigan last night, after fifteen hours of driving.  It was kinda intense, but I like driving on roads I’ve never been on before.  I made Mom let me drive as soon as it got dark…she is a very skittish, paranoid driver, and that drives me crazy, when I’m the passenger.   The International Center, which is the hotel that is attached to the hospital, where I will be staying for the duration, is alright.  We don’t have internet in the room, which is a bummer, but there is an internet ‘cafe’ located one floor below me.  It’s cute and comfortable and mostly quiet (except for the tiny Indian baby that has a stitched-up skull and sparkly blue sunglasses, but I would never begrudge her some laughs and shrieks), so hopefully I will be able to stay connected for the duration of my visit in stinky Michigan.   Canada is so close I can see it from some parts of the city.  That’s a funny sensation, for some reason.   Detroit itself is not as ugly as I had imagined it would be; Michael Moore skewed my idea of Michigan, in general, with his portrayal of Flint, in Farenheit 911.  Detroit’s downtown is littered with museums and theaters, and an overwhelming amount of the architecture is a very lovely, intricate art deco.  We tried to go to the Detroit Institute of the Arts and those fuckers are closed on Tuesdays…what kinda shit is that?  But we will be going back…they have the largest collection of antique puppets in the country, and as I start my puppet making class in January, it’s almost necessary research.  Plus, the foyer that we managed to walk into is lit by these beautiful suspended mirror pieces (must have been ten thousand of them) that glitter and glow like magic.  Mom will be wheeling me around in a wheelchair on Thursday, so I can see this place.  Detroit will not be a total wash.   Also, we found Greektown by accident, when we were driving around downtown, sight-seeing…that was sublime torture.  Everywhere I looked, there was Another Greek Eatery, and all I wanted to do at that moment was stop and have some spanikopita, a gyro, some chicken souvlaki and a pistachio baklava, for dessert.  But no.  800 calories a day rules any one of those things out, immediately.Tomorrow, I have surgery.  I am scared, but I have achieved a calm state of acceptance.  This is what I want.  This is what I have to do to get what I want.  It will be over before I know it.  Everything will be fine.   Just in case the unforeseen happens, I love you all; I hope you know that already. I have tried hard to live my life Saying What I Mean, when it crosses my mind.    I will post as soon as I am coherent again.  Wish me luck!!! 

I Was Just Kidding. I Don’t Want To Do All This. December 6, 2007

Now that the surgery is only six days away (!!!!), I am totally trippin’, yo. I’ve been off cigarettes for five days now–I still feel like there are bees underneath my skin every time I finish a meal, or get in my car, or go on my 15 minutes break at crew–and today was my first day of the 800 calorie a day, pre-op diet. As if the mandatory smoking cessation didn’t make it real enough, now I’m relegated to liquids. For the next two months. Woah.
I have been doing this silly thing in my head where I’ll rationalize all the reasons why it would be okay for me to go have a cigarette with my pals on Smoke Break, but then phrases like Heightened Mortality Rate pop into my consciousness, and I take a pass.

I’m scared, people.

I have the utmost confidence that my doctor is a trained professional, with a track record that ought to make me feel quite safe. But I’m a little bit of a Fatalist sometimes, and I’m having a hard time escaping the Worst Case Scenario Game, when it gets really quiet in my head…or the room I’m in, you know. Whatever.

For my Last Supper, I had: hibachi chicken with glazed carrots, sauteed mushrooms and rice, a house salad with ginger dressing (my favorite!!), and a Friendly Pyramid Roll–spicy tuna with asparagus and avocado. I had three Dr. Peppers with dinner. Adios, carbonated beverages.

I just noticed I have glitter all over my upper torso—I was gluing glitter to a multitude of props for the Nutcracker today, and I had to dump glitter on everything, and then blow off the excess; apparently, the excess went down my shirt. It’s quite the sparkly mess.

I want a cigarette, and I want something solid to eat, and I want to be able to sleep for longer than an hour at a time. Also, I’d like to go ahead and fast forward a week, so all this agonizing Waiting will be over. I will have lost approximately 100 pounds by the time I graduate at the end of May, according to projected weight loss charts. That’s mind boggling. I will be a different person, starting in one week. It’s all gonna go really fast, once it starts.

The next time I see you, I bet you’ll stare. That’s the part that’s gonna take some getting used to: I hear from people who’ve had this surgery that there will come a point where I will want to murder the next person to comment on how much weight I’ve lost, and how fantastic (”so much better“) I look. I’m sure the biggest challenges will be the ones I can’t even anticipate right now, as I sit in my bedroom, Not Sleeping because I want to smoke so bad, and wondering if the IV will be as big as a fork tine.

My mom and I have to be in the car together for at least 12 hours straight. And I can’t smoke. Pray for me, will ya?

OH! Also…my Hot For Teacher crush kissed me today, in the soft goods room, in front of two of her students. So scandalous. Not gonna lie; I loved every second of it.