Unthemed Medley

[handful_ofdust]

Today the steri-strips came off, leaving me able to--nay, let us say unable to not--look directly at my scars-to-be for the very first time. They're not wonderful to behold, but at least they don't make me want to retch. Also, I think I was absolutely right about where that smell was coming from, thankfully (ie, the decaying paste underneath the strips themselves, rather than my own flesh). Next up: Washing more often, applying Polysporin, changing bandaids on the few raw spots left. Tomorrow/today equals exactly one month since my operation, which makes me a third of the way through my primary healing; two more months, and I can start working out again. Five more and I can get pregnant, if I want to. Eleven more, and they'll look pretty much like they will for the rest of my life...unless I get pregnant, I guess.;)

Meanwhile, Russell won So You Think You Can Dance 6, beating out both of my favorites (Jakob and Ellenore)--not that I didn't like Russell, because I did. But once more, we have to remember that the title is America's Favorite Dancer, and America really doesn't like people who are A) classically trained/technically adept and B) don't necessarily conform to "normal" sexual paradigms. (Jakob, sweet guy and great partner that he is, is both creepily flexible and undeniably gay; Ellenore has been labelled "kooky" and "eccentric" throughout because even though she's frickin' gorgeous, her sheer inventive athleticism always outshines her sexuality--she competes like a dude, and makes no apologies for it.)

On the writing front, I've made copious notes, but haven't gotten around to inputting them as yet. This is somewhat because I'm waiting to start edits on A Book..., and also because Christmas is catching up to me. Cal has Mom's cold, which is making him nutty. OTOH, he's also experimenting with parts of speech, probably because of Schoolhouse Rock. The other day he took a phrase and started bending it, provoking an interesting series of back-and-forths:

"The baby is a boy."
"You're a boy."
"The baby is a scream."
"The baby is screaming. And 'to scream' is a..."
"Verb! That's what's happening! The baby is a cymbals."
"The baby has some cymbals."
"Crash!"

And--there you have it. I need to go do some dishes, then go to bed.

Comments

[agincourtgirl.livejournal.com]

That is like a poem, I swear!

So glad your scars are fine and that there's only a few raw spots left. I was told by someone who had had a big H that it would take eight weeks for me to feel normal; I'm guessing that is true for all big operations...

And God bless Polysporin, as well...

[handful-ofdust.livejournal.com]

Yeah, Polysporin's sort of the over-the-counter key here, isn't it? I've been using the stuff which supposedly minimizes scarring, and has the consistency of Vaseline. Descarifies and moisturizes, all in one.;)

As for the back-to-normal time...I think that may very well be true. God knows, I feel substantially better than I did. But then again, there are still the problems with insomnia, plus intermitently getting really hyped up and angry about ridiculous stuff, followed by a dip of depression. All I can do is keep bulling through, I guess. What's done is done.

[agincourtgirl.livejournal.com]

What is done is indeed done, and I am sure once the next month is over things will be *a lot* better. My problem was that I recovered so quickly in hospital itself that I was overambitious when I got home & tried to do too much; even now I am realizing that if I don't pace myself, I will mentally crash out and sleep is the only way to get back to normal...if only I could get enough of it!