In my mind, I'm five years old having a high old time wandering and wondering. In reality, I'm now in my late 60s, wowza! I tell you a lot of creativity is still to be found in this old young self. In you, too, whatever your age. Welcome to my barefoot world!
The other day a friend asked me what was healing like after the hysterectomy I had a few years back. I was surprised that I couldn't recall anything other than what the doctors and the Husband told me. The Husband said that Dr. Gyn-Oncologist & Dr. Gynecologist marched into the waiting room with big smiles and triumph on their faces when all was said and done. I do remember how anxious I got the next day of the surgery; if I didn't pee a certain amount by mid-afternoon, I was stuck in the hospital for another night. (Fortunately I met the deadline.) I also remember the day after I got home, a good friend brought me delicious homemade brownies, and a few days later I told another friend to leave because his negative beliefs about the world was bringing me down. I recall now that the Husband and I slept downstairs in L Studio for about two months. I had to laugh that I couldn't remember my recovery period. Details may pop up later. Or not. Does it even matter
As some of you dear readers know, I underwent a full hysterectomy last year. For those of you who are learning for the first time, yes, I did. Snip, snip, snip, snip went the oncologist/gynecologist with the da Vinci robotic arms and pop! shusssssh! went my Fallopian tubes, ovaries, uterus, and cervix, along with cancerous cells, which nobody was really sure if they truly were there. Yes, it overwhelms me when I think about it. My mind does really well about not thinking. My body is another story. Before telling you more, know that the doctor assured me that my reproductive system fits the size of my fist, maybe even smaller, and that within time my guts will drop and fill the space. So, here I am just over 13 months later continually clenching my tailbone because I'm afraid my intestines will fall out. Seriously. This got me to wonder: Has anyone given birth to her guts? Do you think I ought to ask the doctor? Giggle
Sweet peas. One of my favorite flowers. One of the first flowers I successfully grew as a kid. When I was a teenager, they let me grow sweet peas on the south side of the house. I can't recall though if I was a decent shepherd of sweet peas. You know, if I had watered them regularly without being told. I doubt they would've told me if I forgot. Knowing the parents, they would've given the sweet peas a drink if they were watering in the area. The parents were great. I like to think they were impressed that I actually took an interest in growing stuff. I also planted Sweet Williams beneath a tree in the front yard, but they didn't do as well as the sweet peas. Sweet Peas. Sweet Williams. Yup. I was attracted to the names. This morning I collected sweet pea seed pods in the backyard. Their season went quickly. The sweetpeas in the picture are the last for this year. They're volunteers. I didn't even know there were sweet peas until I looked out the wind
If I had written this post several days ago, I may have been called it Hysterical Report . Actually, I thought about renaming this blog to The Hysterical Report . I'm glad I waited. I'd rather not be hysterical about anything. I am on a new adventure. No. I take that back, it's not new. After 12 years, this adventure's path has come into the foreground. It's simply not a good idea to let the grass grow over this path anymore. My in-my-face-but-not-hysterical-adventure is an upcoming hysterectomy. Da-dah! Oh-oh, did I lose you? Come back when you can wrap your head around the concept of a hysterectomy. It took me awhile. I realize it helps for me to write about it. Yesterday afternoon I got a chest x-ray, one of my three pre-op things to do. The other two are an EKG (next week) and several blood tests (a week before the operation). Did you happen to flash on the Operation board game, by the way? Because I did the X-rays in town, I repeated myself a lot to the lab