To Hunt a Killer, Post Op Appointment, Down Moments, No Pressure

Today I had my post operation appointment. It's not quite been a month since my surgery but just about and I was a tad worried when I saw the evil-but-necessary pelvic exam equipment sitting out on the counter. I had read on the Hystersister's site that doctors usually do that exam at 6 weeks. You know because the lovely post-op paper of what you can and can't do in certain amounts of time says no sex until 6-8 weeks have passed. But nope, my doctor wanted to make sure everything was healing properly. I am healing well but I am very sore from her exam despite how gentle she was. Tylenol is putting a dent in it though. 

The good news is, I don't ever have to have another exam like that again, unless I have pain for some reason, and I don't have to take hormones. My doctor also gave me the official pathology report. I had lots of cysts but everything was benign. So I am good to go and can start tackling other issues like my back, my weight, the firbromyalgia, and depression and anxiety.  

Moving on. My friend Chris took me to my appointment this morning and after we came back to my house for lunch, to watch a movie (which we both fell asleep during) and to look at a monthly subscription box she'd ordered: Hunt a killer. The first box introduces you to you "pen pal/friend" and you are supposed to discover the mystery behind this person and what they may or may not have done. We spread it out on my kitchen table and read everything, looked at the clues sent to us, and then I started by making lists of things like keywords, how many times the 'penpal' said certain things, references that were made and so on. We came up with a couple of theories and then put stuff away. We have a couple of things we want to research later. The next box is supposed to build on the first and so on and so forth. It is really neat. 

I have been having some really heavy, intense bursts of depression lately. I will be discussing it with my therapist this weekend, of course. Some of the things I have been struggling with are really personal and on top of that there has been an underlying tension in the house along with an overwhelming sense of guilt that is starting to suffocate me and piss me off. I need to address these things so I can move on.

I talked to my Dad tonight. He had to travel for some of his work and stopped at all the roadside landmarks when he had five hours to kill. He learned quite a bit about Liberal and Ashland, Kansas, and imparted that information on to me. I, of course, went to go look at pictures of these places so I could see what he'd seen. It was fun. 

For some reason my Grandpa seems to be thinking about me an awful lot lately. He wants to see me publish something before he dies. Since he is 88 years old and has Alzheimer's, I guess I had better get to work. He apparently wanted to know what had happened, that I had such potential, and I am going to fucking cry because while I've always known that my Grandpa loves me and misses me, I didn't realize that he'd ever paid that much attention to anything I was doing. I mean he took me fishing and showed me how to do some things, took me to museums and traveling and taught me how to do some gardening, ect... But, I was kind of more my Grandma's helper. Grandma wanted to teach me house wife stuff and sewing, piano, and so on. 

Anyway, no pressure right? Because we wouldn't want to, you know, add a sense of time running out to someone has horrible anxiety and already has that sense to begin with plus very high expectations of herself. It's fine. No, I probably won't have anything published by the time he forgets that he said that or me or he passes, but it's a nice goal to work toward.

Cat Tales Zoological Park, still achy, music

Today we went to Cat Tales Zoological Park. 

I'm not sure what spurred Amanda into wanting to go or if it was a joint deciding venture between her and our friend Rachel. Either way, we went with Rachel and her boyfriend. 

Cat Tales is a  non-profit that takes in animals from side shows, animals that basically idiots decided it would be cool to have and then learned they were much more than they could handle and so on. They have Bengal and Siberian Tigers, a Lion, bobcats, a bear, some parrots, and at least one house cat that we decided was the most dangerous kitty at the park. No, really, we named him Skittles and he rules that joint. Okay, he probably doesn't but he's wild enough that there are signs advising people not to pet the house cats if they see them. There are also signs that state "do not run, you look like food", which I thought were appropriate.

It is not a big park and for my first real outing involving a good bit of walking, I think it went pretty well. One of the white tigers, Zeus, was pretty chatty. I didn't know if he was upset because he was limping and possibly hurting, or if he was just talking. He kept looking at me, so I spent some time at his enclosure while he walked up and down and rubbed his face on the chain link.   

I do not have pictures because my phone died during the night last night and I didn't have time to plug it in this morning before we left. My camera battery is also dead, so I didn't have that available. I linked the website above

After we left Cat Tales, we stopped by a cemetery so Rachel's boyfriend could get some pictures and then we went to get something to eat. Then we stopped at Party City and I knew after a few minutes in there that I was done for the day. It has only been four weeks since my surgery and I am still pretty sore. On top of that, I think the lackluster breakfast sandwiches I got us at 7-11 upset my stomach because I wasn't feeling well. It was bad enough that anything Amanda mentioned us getting from the store for the week made me want to vomit. 

I am still having trouble laying down to sleep. I tried this morning but it was just painful enough to keep me from getting any true sleep. So I gave up and sat up. I'm not happy about this, I would really like to sleep in bed with Amanda. I miss it and we are both feeling a little disconnect in that regard. Tonight she was having a bad night, so I made her come out to sleep on the sofa because I didn't want her to be alone. I mean, it's not like I'm likely to sleep anytime soon. Writing all night seems to be the best time for me. The rest of the world is sleeping.

A bit of good news is that my Grandmother is out of the hospital and back in the rehab center. She's keeping food down, but fora  little while her kidneys weren't functioning. She's better. 

Still writing and I did a really naughty thing. I ordered a couple of small note books from Evil Supply Co. They are relatively inexpensive and I find them to be the perfect size for story notes. Plus they are so me. This is one of the ones I purchased tonight.

On to music. I set up a L'Ame Immortelle station on pandora because I wanted more of that type of Gothic Music. Through some tweaking I am finally getting a mix of Gothic and Darkwave that is akin to what I was hearing on R1 Das Darkwave years ago. It was a streaming station I stumbled upon via Winamp over a decade ago that is no longer running. The station on pandora isn't perfect and I'm not getting everything I would like, but its close enough to make me happy. I'm still trying to figure out how the hell "Cry Little Sister" from the movie Lost Boys actually pertains to the damned movie. I know I saw it years ago, but I don't get it, lol.  I also heard a "new to me" song by VNV Nation called "Carbon" that I fell in love with. 

   

Car-less, down one phone, reaching 300, strange dreams

Colonel Roy Mustang from 1st Fullmetal Alchemist Series. 

I'm sorry if I have missed something important in the blogosphere. I will eventually catch up on everyone's news, even if it takes me one blog at a time. I have been really busy lately, and yet not. 

We visited a friend on Monday and then Amanda took our friend Fiona home yesterday. Fiona had been here for quite awhile actually. While I appreciate all her help with cooking and cleaning and hanging out, I was ready for her to go home. Nothing against her, I just want time alone with Amanda. Anyway, in taking Fiona home, Amanda left the car for Fiona's Dad to work on for the rest of the week. We've been really concerned about a squeeky belt and also the car sounds like a fan that has paper stuck in it and since it is the only car we have at the moment and can't afford to replace it anytime soon, we need to keep it running. 

We are also down one cell phone. Amanda left hers at her parents house yesterday when they brought her home. We should get it back this weekend though. So she's been using the alarm on my phone to help her wake up in the morning. 

I have had some pretty interesting dreams as of late. Strange, intense, and vivid. I want to write them down but I'm only recalling tiny bits and pieces, feelings or notions, not enough that I feel I can string together properly. Oh well. This is what I get for not writing them down as soon as I wake up.

Yes, I am still pretty deep in the world of Fullmetal Alchemist in so much as I have watched a few episodes of anime here and there, looked at some pretty pictures, read some doujinshi, and am still working on the rewrite of my fanfic. I'm less than 30 pages from hitting the 300 page mark and I've still got a lot more to do. I figure if I have to, I can cut some stuff later. Amanda thinks I should post it, so people can see the difference between the story then and the story now and the progression of my writing... I may have already mentioned this- it's been awhile, sorry- if I haven't well, now you know. I don't know if I want to post it or not. Right now I just want to finish it and edit it. Then enjoy it for myself. I've got a couple of friends who want to read it. I know if I sent it to my Mom, she'd read it. It's kind of weird but I kind of wish Amanda was interested in reading it. I've told her a lot of it, asked her for her opinion on some things, brainstormed with her, so she pretty much already knows it. She'd not really the biggest fan of heterosexual romance stories and that is okay. She did say that she'd rather read and help me edit my novels when I get my ass in gear to work on them.

Speaking of novels. I've been getting images and feeling drawn or tugged predominately by three different characters. One is a mage, one is a witch, and one is a dragon. All three want my attention, all three want me to write their stories, and I've had to put my foot down because I am bound and determined to finish the story I am working on. I have such a hard time finishing stories, especially bigger ones, that I feel I simply must end this one before I can move onto another project.  

Oh and the other night, while attempting to lay down (I haven't been about to really lay down since surgery, kind of hurts and I am such a stomach sleeper), I came up with another Fullmetal Alchemist story. Mostly I was overheated, in pain, and trying to tell myself a story to help me go to sleep. Sometimes that works, sometimes it doesn't. That night it didn't. But I got to thinking, after telling Amanda and Fiona about it later, that why make it fanfiction when I can easily make changes and create my own world, my own magical system, and so on. So yeah, that's another character that's wanting my attention. 

While writing has encompassed a good deal of my life lately, at least I don't feel manic anymore. I'm actually a lot happier and feel better than I have in a long time. I'm watching anime, listening to music that calls and inspires me, I'm not worrying about what other people want all the time. Shit, I've been laughing a lot more and louder. I almost peed the other day from laughing. It's been ages since I've laughed that hard. It's kind of freaking me out. I didn't think I could get that loud. 

On the family front, my Grandparents are still in the rehabilitation center trying to get well enough to go home. I haven't spoken to my parents in a couple of days and need to. Everyone else seems to be okay, at least no one has called, messaged, or e-mailed me any different. 

Well, I have had enough of a break and it is time that I get a little bit more writing done before I get too tried to hold my eyes open.  

You know it's bad when... Writing, healing.

I am still entrenched in the world of Fullmetal Alchemist in that I freaking love it, its on my list of fictional places I wish I could live in, and I am still re-writing a fanfic I wrote over 11 years ago. I'm hitting the 200 page mark with it and thought I would end somewhere around 300, but it's starting to look like it might run into 400 pages. Apparently this story needs retold. This story keeps getting away from me. I have a direction but the characters keep deviating here and there. It's fine, I don't mind so much. 

I have been writing pretty much constantly. When I'm not, I feel it pulling me back, but sometimes I need a break, I need sleep, and I have to pay attention to Amanda. I will create or find a balance between writing and the rest of my life, but for now, because I'm finally writing again, actually writing and not forcing word vomit onto paper, I am enjoying it and running with it. I think part of me is afriad that if I stop, I'll never start again and that horrible feeling like the one thing of my choosing that gives me purpose or some thing will leave and that will be it. It will be done and gone and I'll never get it back again. But that's probably depression talking. 

Since my surgery I have trying to take it easy. I haven't been able to lay down yet, so I've been sleeping sitting up, on my sofa. During the day, I generally sit at my desk to work.The other night I thought I popped a stitch when I sat down. Something snapped and it hurt bad enough that I screamed  a little. I don't do that. I don't even really complain when I hurt- which has been a source of trouble lately- and the way I felt when it happened was scary. I decided that if I still felt the pain the next day, I would call my surgeon. The next day came and Amanda and Fiona (who is visiting) made me call when I didn't want to. I was sitting in the bathroom crying and just about got the riot act. Yes, I am stubborn and I come by it honestly, I learned it from both my parents and my grandparents. Anyway, my doctor asked me a few questions and then said she'd call back the next day to check on me. I was fine the next day, sore, but the pain wasn't nearly what it had been. No bleeding or anything like that, so I am okay. Well, it's two weeks from surgery and I still hurt but I'm weening myself off the pain pills- well okay it;s more like going cold turkey with the help of tylenol. But the point is, I'm getting it done.

Okay, the reason there has been some contention between Amanda and I lately because I don't complain that I hurt, is because she forgets that I am in pain. It is my fault. I don't talk about it, I don't fuss. When you grow up with a woman who suffers from chronic pain due to migraines, torn rotator cuffs, blown disks in her neck (seriously my mom's neck feels like gristle) and back and then seizures that came out of nowhere, who is also OCD and depressed as hell for all of it, anything you say hurts feels like your competing and I didn't want to do that. So, I learned to just take some meds, not fuss, and get on with it. Plus whining about hurting gets old to me. So I just don't. Amanda got on to me about it. She said she can't read my mind and that because I have been more or less moving around like nothing happened, it's hard for her to remember that I had surgery or that I am in pain still. One of my friends also kind of got onto me, in her nice polite way. She will ask me if I am okay, and I automatically reply that I am, partly because I don't want to complain and partly also because I don't like worrying people I care about. I'm weird.  

Emotionally and mentally I'm having some trouble. I'm probably not processing things as I should. I've been writing a lot and not really in my own reality per se. I'm not entirely sure I am ready to be fully present in my own reality. There are some things I'm not quite ready to address for myself and some things I am struggling with. Amanda is kind of falling apart because her job- while she loves the people- is sucking the life out of her and were starting to wonder if she doesn't have some form of narcolepsy. I can't tell it is just a stress issue because she seems to have had these issues since she was a kid. Either way, she needs a different job.  Then there is the shit I woke up to yesterday. 

My Mom called me yesterday and I was seconds from getting to the phone. When I called her back she was sobbing. With my Grandparents in such bad shape right now (both of them ended up in the hospital and are now in a rehab facility near home) I thought maybe something had happened to them. Also, my mom doesn't cry. She was abused. So when my mom is cry or in this case sobbing so bad my Dad takes the phone from her to talk to me, you know shit's bad. My mom asked me to call her identical twin, the monster bitch who I cut off for several reasons. My Dad said I should call and at least tell her that I love her (which is true, deep down I never stopped, she's my aunt- but that didn't mean I had to put up with her shit) because I might not get another chance, and not to do it for my aunt, to do it for my Mom. I was fucked then, because I would do anything for my Mom, my Dad too, and I would do anything to make my mom stop crying like that. I hate it when she cries like that, I used to listen to her cry up in her room when I was in high school and after before I moved out, because she was in so much pain all the time. I actually used to wish she could die just so she wouldn't have to feel the pain anymore. Which to me, was really fucked up, because she's my mom and even back when we butt heads all the time, she was still my best friend and I didn't want her to die. I needed her, still do. 

But yeah, I asked my Dad to text me my aunt's number and made the call. Again, I knew things are really bad because she didn't pull any of her usual emotionally draining martyr victim crap or yell or anything like that. She got a little biblical preachy for about five minutes, but otherwise it was a really good conversation. She's got a lot stuff wrong with her and apparently there's something going on with a tube that connects to her gallbladder and supposedly it is a risky surgery. Or at least it is risky for her with all of her health issues, one of them being an ITP blood issue- aka she's a bleeder. But she's in so much pain and depressed and my aunt didn't tell me, my parents did, but she's given up on living. She just doesn't want to do it anymore. And she's terrified that my cousin Shi-chan will kill herself because she's so utterly depressed. There's a lot more going on, drama from my other two cousins that's completely disgusting. I try not to hold myself above other people, I really don't, I don't think I am better than anyone else, I generally feel like I am less, but in the case of my other two cousins from aunt, at least I am not a lying pill junky who only likes her kid as a play thing or a raging violent alcoholic.  Seriously, I am glad to not live back home just so I am not constantly exposed to their bullshit.

Anyway, I guess when it rains it pours. But I am writing again and it's made me so happy. 

Birthday, friends, pain, and other stuff

Art by Amy Brown

Today (or I guess now it is yesterday), I leveled up or rather turned 33. When I woke up to nibble enough of something to take the pain meds, it was snowing. Nothing stuck, but it was still snowing and that's all that mattered to me. 

I hope this blog makes sense, I am fighting my pain pills to write. I should go sit on the sofa for the night, but  I wanted t get some writing done today.

The day was good, very low key. The plan was to rest, watch all three extended edition Lord of the Rings  Blurays, and rest. Some of our friends stopped by to drop off food and some presents. It was all very low key and happily relaxed. There were a couple of people I hadn't seen a lot of lately that I had missed and enjoyed seeing again. We did watch the Fellowship of the Ring and the Two Towers, but I was visiting through the first and dozed off and on through the second. I'll have to re-watch them again, probably without friends over, so I can really enjoy it without distraction. One of the things I love most about watching Lord of the Rings is getting swept up in it. 

I got a couple of books for my birthday. One book was a collection of modern day Heathen Stories, Amanda bought me Neil Gaimen's Norse Myths. There were a couple of coloring books and gel pens along with a  Raccoon necklace. Later in the evening another couple of friends stopped by and dropped off Bram Stoker's Dracula Omnibus and some horrror movies. There were some bottled shots of liquor as well, but I will save them when I am finished with the pain pills. Oh and Amanda bought me a parasol that will block UV rays.

I knew there would be pain after my surgery. You don't have major sections of yourself removed and not have pain. Anyway, I figured I would be in more pain than I am. I expected to be bed ridden for at least a week if not two. But I'm not. I've been up and moving around my house, I've taken a car ride to the grocery store and even walked through the store, trying to take it easy but hurry with my shopping. Amanda thinks I am super woman, she's pleased and a little freaked out that I am doing so well. I told Amanda that the pain I am feeling through the pain pills is what I felt all the time when I had cramps. So it hurts and sometimes I want to vomit, but because it is a familiar level of pain, I'm just kind of going about my business, but being as careful as I can not to over do it. If I didn't have any pain pills I have a feeling the pain would be much worse.

Speaking of pain. I am having a bit of trouble with it when going to the bathroom. I feel very bruised inside and think I might have hurt myself the day I first went number 2. Since then going poop or farting, sometimes even peeing, has been an adventure into cold sweats, near passing-out and great deal of  pressure and pain. I can't reached around and wipe on my own ass either (Strained something awfully bad when I tried) so Amanda has to help me out there. She's been rubbing my back, getting me drinks when I ask here and there. There have been many kisses and hugs.0

 I think she is still in a  state of shock. First there was all the fear and anger and sadness and now not only did I make it through surgery, I am not doing what she expected, so it is throwing her for a loop. She's happy, but I think she also wanted to take care of me a little bit. I think she'd prepared herself for the worst, which is good. Now she's just letting me do my thing- which at the moment is writing- although she wishes I could lay down in bed with her. I want to, but I don't  feel that I can get up as easily. So I have been sleeping, sitting up, on the sofa with my feet propped up on the ottoman. 

I also woke up from surgery with a little bit of my old sass. Or maybe its just that some of my old sass is beginning to come out again. Either way, its kind of nice. 

Well, I don't know how much sense this blog is making. I am really fighting the pain pills and this post was more of me trying to get some writing done and post happier news for a change. I've tried to write the damned thing three times today. Also, our friends are a true blessing, but I will have to write about that later.

Thanks everyone for the birthday wishes on facebook!  

The week before surgery- stuff I want to talk about.

Art by Kir-tat on Deviantart.com

I did not do so well last week or the first couple of days this week. At first I was angry and furious, which was vented and displayed in some of my previous blog posts. Amanda wasn't handling it well either and on top of that she'd been pretty miserable at work. It's not her co-workers, it's the customers, and she's really beginning to feel burnt out. When you add that I wasn't on top of things here at home to that, there were a lot of tears with us both at a loss as to what to do. 

I felt like the the dryad in the picture above, I saw doom coming and was desperately trying to cling to my home, my stability to the very last. Then something happened. I went into what my therapist called survival mode. I couldn't handle my own reality anymore and started reading. I read some of Monster Hunter International (I still need to finish it) and then read a novel length fanfiction I fell in love with years ago. I even saved the damned thing so I could print it out, put it in a binder, and keep it just in case the author ever decides to remove it. Reading her fanfic of course got me to thinking about my own, so I read several of the stories I'd written 11 years ago. That led to me wanting to rewrite one. 

Somehow in the course of reading and beginning to rewrite the fanfiction, I became manic. I stopped sleeping properly, in fact I didn't sleep much at all. I wasn't eating very much either because I simply wasn't hungry. I ended up losing about 20 pounds. I'm sure I will gain a little of that back during recovery, but I'm hoping not too much. I also wrote 97 pages in I think 5 days- the days kind of ran together on me. 

Also, the cardiology appointment wasn't really necessary, they didn't see anything wrong. But better to be safe than sorry. 

Yesterday morning, after my shower, getting dressed, and packing my hospital bag, I was still writing. When I got the hospital I mentioned that I was a little sad that I couldn't write during the day, but it is a little hard to write when a robot is removing your internal lady bits. Several of my friends were there to see me off, which made me want to cry. I've felt so alone living so far from my family and because of my depression. To see them there was wonderful. 

Amanda got to go back with me for a little bit. I had to get prepped, do an antiseptic wash down and get into my hospital gown. The hospital Chaplin came in to talk to me. While I am no longer Christian, he didn't know that, I appreciated that. The staff were really great too. There is this type of blanket that on one side it looks like a pool float mat, one of those you air up, and the other side it more a papery cloth that has tiny holes scattered throughout. They hook a tube up to it and in pumps warm air. On top of that they lay a blanket to keep you warm. It was amazing! 

However, my fears and some panic was starting to come back, a little of my numbness had faded. My anesthesiologist gave me some Valium. I certainly liked that, I got a bit giggly. Not tool long after that, I was taken to surgery. 

I think had I not had the Valium, I might have had a panic attack. The ceiling had large, round, movable lights, there were various monitors, a whole line of surgical equipment against the wall to my left, and to my right, was the robot. There were four or five arms and I couldn't decide if I was fascinated with it or afraid. I didn't have too much time to think about it, they surgical staff was introducing themselves, helping me move to the surgery bed, and before I knew it, I was going to sleep.

When I awoke, or was in the process of waking up, my left side hurt and I wanted to pee so bad. They did a bladder check but said there was nothing in my bladder. They also told me that the surgery team fills you up with gasp and fills the bladder up as well to see things better. So what I was feeling was the gas and my bladder trying to go back to its normal size. Because I was in pain, they gave me some medication. But I  was also having some difficulty breathing while laying down and it was also happening every time I started to doze off. That was apparently a side effect of anesthesia and some pain medication.  I was given water and apple sauce and moved into a chair to sit up. 

From then on it was observation time and Amanda got to come back. I got a bit cranky. There was someone who wouldn't stop talking next to me. My oxygen sats kept dropping according to the damned monitor. So they stopped using the finger one and hooked thing to my ear. But they kept messing with it that I wanted to tell them to leave it the fuck alone or just take the damned thing off. I peed 4 times while there and was up using a walker on the last two. I got a bit annoyed that I had to wait to be unhooked from the heart monitor and the nurse had to come and carry my saline and also be there in case I fell. But I never said anything to anyone, they were only doing their job.

At 1:30, I was unhooked from everything, helped into a wheel chair and taken out to the car. Because Spokane is lousy about road care, every pot hole hurt, but Amanda drove as carefully as she could and tried to avoid them as much as possible. 

We stopped at Rite Aid to drop off my prescription, grab some Sprite, and then it was home. Fiona had worked her ass off to clean up my house. She's been staying with our friend Tsuki and coming over during the day to cook or just be emotional support. It has been nice and I don't know what I'm going to do to thank her. Or everyone else really. Another friend organized a meal train and got some of our friends to sign up and they will be taking turns bringing over dinners for us so we don't have to cook or worry about cleaning. 

Emotionally, I am glad this is over. I am happy and excited to see what my life is going to be like. I am a little sad though. Even though I didn't trust my body to ever have children, now there is officially no possible way for me to have any. I always wanted kids. But even though I am a little sad, I don't have any regrets. I have my cats, am an honorary aunt to my friend's kids, and Amanda and I will adopt if we ever get to a place where we feel we can. I spoke to Amanda about it and she said she was doing some reading and there are going to be some physiological effects going along with this, but we'll deal with them as they come along. 

Quick update with good news

I probably shouldn't be sitting at my desk, updating my blog, but the pain medication is helping me do that. Some of you who follow me on instagram or facebook, know that I had my hysterectomy this morning. I checked into the hospital as an out-patient at 5:30 this morning and was in surgery by 8 am. It was a two hour complete hysterectomy preformed by Dr. Mourton and her Robots- a little joke- it was robotic surgery.

Anyway, it went really well. Once I was awake, I was eating and drinking and fast to go to the bathroom. By 1:30 this afternoon, I was in the car on my way home and have been sitting on the sofa ever since. I would have gone to bed, but it is easier for me to get up and down off the sofa than to climb in and out of our high bed. Along with that, I needed to sit up after taking pain medication because once I start to doze off or fall asleep, my breathing isn't the best. I'm okay enough to be home with out oxygen, but it is still something to keep and eye on. I should be okay on that front by tomorrow morning since it has something to do with the anesthesia- or so I was told. 

So as of right now, I have been up and moving around enough to get myself to and from the bathroom and I can go without help. Moving up and down and pulling my underwear up hurts, but I can deal. I think I may have aggravated one of my incision spots at the hospital, it felt like I had a gas bubble trapped under my ribs and so I rubbed it trying to get it to start easing up. I did not know there was an incision there. But I'm sure that will pass as well. 

I'll have to write a post about the goings on this last week. I have a lot to tell, but need to get away from my desk and back on the sofa. 

So, I'm home, I made it, the offending internal equipment (or as Amanda called it  Zarcon- the villain in Voltron- has been defeated by Voltron) is out of me at last, and I am looking forward to getting some of my life back!