Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Thoughts During a Work Day at Home

Quick note: Just to show how brutally slow and tired I am these days, this post was actually written yesterday - it just wore me out enough that I didn't have the energy to post it. That, and I am lazy.

My hairdresser was right – I go long enough with not brushing my hair, and I give myself dreadlocks.

I sooooo wish I was kidding on this one.

But it’s weird, because my hair was literally tied up into a bun on the top of my head from Thursday morning until last night, so I don’t know quite how it managed to tangle so bad. I will say this though – it’s a good thing I was so battered down in pain that I didn’t have the energy to care about my lack of showering or teeth brushing, both of which were severely neglected during the four day stay.

How bad was it? Let me put it this way – I took a 30 minute shower yesterday, washed and conditioned my hair THREE TIMES EACH, and washed my actual body no fewer than four times. But still when I took a shower this morning, the dirt balled up and rolled off my skin. And also – I managed to make it through all those months of IM training without so much as a legitimate blemish from the sweat or dirt. But yet today, the only things bigger than my hellacious scars are my skins rashes from the scum.

Holy gross, I am not even kidding.

My 15-month old nephew has a new set of walking legs and he knows how to use them. He and my sister Ellen came by to visit today, and what a trip he is. He babbles, and it looks like he is actually trying to tell you something, and like he knows what he saying. Riot!

And the best part of his visit? I was getting water in the kitchen, he was standing at my feet and I kneeled down to give him a kiss, in response to which he voluntarily extended his arms around my neck, and put his head on my shoulder in a hug. And he didn’t let go.

For like, a long time.

15 months old and this kid knows how to give all the love in the world, at just the right moment.

His mom is teaching him right.

Since we started dating, Cheese has introduced me to a lot of things I never knew existed: eyebrow-burning flatulence, chili cheese fries, the Rescue Me series, lime-aid from Sonic, free Internet porn – you get the idea. In fact, he prides himself on sticking things in my face and saying, “Stop being so stubborn, just try it….why do you have to be such a brat, just try it.” But one of his greatest contributions to my fund of knowledge was “30 Rock.”

I didn’t watch this when it first came out, but, like all things television, he bought the DVD disc set and I caught up on the whole first season. Just now, I watch the recorded episode from Thursday (I was in too much of a sleep/pain haze to remember it even being on) and almost split a stitch. Genius.

I never got why people loved to pick at their scabs. Until now. I mean, it’s like a little sense of accomplishment to get a good chunk off without causing any major bleed. Moreover, the look of crusted skin and blood is really kinda, well, cool. I literally have to sit on my hands to keep them off my stitches.

And I am sure my sister will enjoy cleaning up the pile of crusty scabs I left on the floor about as much as I enjoy sweeping up Cheese’s toenails after one of his visits.

Of all the things it hurts most to do because of the cesarean scar (as I like to call it), laughing is one of them. Who knew you used so many lower abdominal muscles to laugh? But I guess that means if you can find enough people to make you laugh nonstop, or discover enough things in your day to bring up a good solid belly laugh, you’ll have a six-pack in no time.

So by my calculations, considering all the comments given to me these last few days, my six-pack should be progressing nicely. It makes me want to never frown again.

Oh my gosh – so after my sister and nephew left today, I checked in at work, resigned myself to putting off the walk outside due to the rain, sat on the couch and turned on the tv.

And I’ll be a son-of-a-gun if the tv station wasn’t set to VH1’s Classics, “Totally 80s.” Why is this funny? Because my 37-year-old brother-in-law was the last one home this morning, which means he was sitting/standing/dancing in front of the t.v this morning to all things 80s. I can see it now – me dozing in the back room, and 6’3 Patrick – coffee cup in one hand, remote control in the other being used as a microphone, wearing his green bath robe (known as the “Hef Robe”), hair all askew, and kicking his legs all about a la Molly Ringwald Breakfast Club-style to Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance With Somebody.” The mere imagery is enough to bust a stitch on.

When I turned it on, I found myself entranced with Gladys Knight singing to me about “Love Overboard.” Now how on earth did I miss this nugget of art – a jewel amongst coal – during that time? I must have been all wrapped up in Thriller or Wham or Billy Ocean. But good gosh, this video was truly stunning – please YouTube it – you won’t be disappointed.

Oh wait, I gotta go now – Rod Stewart’s “Some Guys Have All the Luck” just came on and it’s time to get my bounce on.

Man, this day gets better and better.

I sincerely hope I didn’t come off as complaining about my recovery in that last post. I mean, yeah the pain sucks - blah blah - but I was really just trying to explain. With all that has happened, I could not have asked for a better comeback. I mean, for crying out loud, I went back to work today, I went to the gym to walk the treadmill, and am eating, and peeing and passing gas (weee!) and pooping (woooo!!). People lay up for weeks after this, and not only do I not want to, I don’t feel like I need to.

And as silly as this might sound, I feel like I am being pushed forward by all the support and well wishes and encouragement of others. It's kinda hard to lay around and bitch about feeling pain or sick or nauseated when you have all these people checking in, giving hugs, reminding me I was an Ironman, telling me I am strong and they love me. Let me say this – if you have ever wondered if sick people take to heart your kind words or wishes - they do. At least I do, and it is making all the difference in my recovery.

Hang on…..

Is that….?

Holy crap!

I hear Whitesnake from the t.v. in the other room!

It’s the video where the girl is crawling on that car!

Now I really gotta go!

Peace out!


Benson said...

Hey now, go easy on the dancing along with 80's VH1 for a little while yet.
And hey, go easy on GOING BACK TO WORK? What the eff are you doing? Work is so overrated. You're recovering from an organ donation for crying out loud. Step away from the office, slowly, slooooooowly. Now crank up the volume and relive the 80's.

Andra Sue said...

Nooooooooooooo, Meg!!! Not Whitesnake! Music like that will ruin your recovery for sure. :(

Oh, and I don't think you're complaining at all. Yesterday's post was full of valid observations.

p.s. dreadlocks are cool.

Prin said...

1. Dirt: Like, ew. lol

2. Love: Aww! That's the sweetest thing. One of my fosterdogs did that and it really melts the soul into a puddle.

3. Rock: I don't watch it. *blushes*

4. Skin: Amen to that. Scabs are pickolicious.

5. Laugh: Yeah, speaking of which, I got up the gumbies and posted my movie on my blog. I'm already regretting it. lol

6. HA: When I was a young'un, we had one channel, the CBC (government run station). So I have no idea what you're talking about. lol

7. Hope: Complain all you want. You have to get your kidney's worth. :D

I think I got them all. Whew.

prinny said...

I'm glad you're back and doing ok! :-)

Nytro said...

dude. complain all you want. you've earned it.

oh, and i am SOOO totally with you with the scab sitch. the sense of accomplishment is akin to running a marathon and NOT vomiting.

Go Mom Go said...


I have to say gotta love VH1 and totally 80's. Some of the best songs that pop up on my iPod are from my Monster 80's CD. :)

Heal up!

Prin said...

Wait. There was nothing in there about eating bananas for breakfast. Have you emerged for that phase of masochism? I'm so proud of you.