I’ve spent the last week very busily and strenuously recovering from surgery. The translation is: on the couch reading and watching tv shows. I may have overdosed on True Blood but it was southern fried fun while I was doing it. My only, very minorly, vaguely intellectual thought from this is that the Queensland/Louisiana thing is not entirely wrong. This makes me quite uncomfortable for a number of reasons that I don’t think I’ll go into in the right here right now.
Hospital was interesting. I reacted to the whole process with breathtaking calm given that it was entirely new to me. My biggest freak out was being asked, at about 4pm, to swallow five uncoated tablets with the aid of about half an inch of water. Cruel given that I’d had no fluid since 2.30am. I got man-handled, and I don’t really like people touching me, by just about everyone. Doctors are awfully touchy, aren’t they? Like unnecessarily so. It all seemed a bit silly when all I really wanted was the blissful touch of anaesthesia. It all went off without a hitch and, hopefully, I shan’t have further problems. I made my surgeons and nurses happy so I suppose all is good.
Recovery has been rather slow but only in the sense that I am tired and a little sore as well as wonderfully bruised. Had I a tum for showing off I’d have posted pictures of my interestingly bruised bellybutton. Other than that nothing. I am tying to force myself to do nothing. No lifting, not too much standing, and limited sitting upright which tends to the uncomfortable. I am reading Possession and David Marr’s Power Trip and feeling oddly disconnected from everything.