In case you were unclear on the matter, most nurses are spectacular saints. I should know—I’ve spent a fuck-ton of concentrated time over these last couple years being catered to, calmed and cared for by these mostly gracious, ultra wonderful, patient beings.
Having said that, how fun is it for them to work with a sad, cranky, scared-to-freak-out levels old broad? Yeah, yesterday was NOT one of my more mature ones.
Part of this is that I MIGHT be moved to Rehab as soon as TODAY! Too fast, too damn fast! I need more time. Why? It’s hard to adjust to new staff, new practices, new customs at light speed. I’m no supercomputer, ya know?
Also, I haven’t heard great stuff about the joint BUT my intell is conceivably outdated. The nurses have been raving about the place, saying folks “fight” to get in there. I’m in no shape for that shit but feel a little more at ease.
The surgical neuro team was just in to check on me. Naturally I was sleeping and don’t recall what they said apart from that I’m doing well and my incision looks good. It’s certainly, blaringly easy enough to see. MUCH more hair was removed than I’d anticipated. I look like a monk with an extreme tonsure. Yeah, There’ll be NO pics of this hot hair disaster.
I’m trying, honest, to refrain from obnoxious rudeness—though that’s one of my better developed skills, especially when I’m all tense and nervous.
Meanwhile, Jen is gonna try to set up a FaceTime session for Coco and me this morning! That could be helpful. Plus, all your comments and “likes”’over on ShoutyFace are truly appreciated and buoying. GRAZIE!
Just FYI, apparently you can only leave comments here if if you’re on Firefox versus Safari. Dunno what if any other apps work for comments.
Lastly...THANK YOU!!!
