I was there in that yard pictured below two days ago. Doesn't that seem strange?
I was there, and the weather was beautiful, not a cloud in the sky, and I walked all around that yard taking pictures of flowers and a meter machine and nails on the deck and highly tolerant cats. It seems strange to be one place two days ago, and then to be here two days later, lying in bed after having had a hysterectomy. Suddenly, I am a person with four incisions dotting her belly and wearing that weird, gauzy hospital underwear (the nurse called them "special panties") and sitting next to bottles of hydromorphone, naproxen, and acetaminophen. If not for the Daffy Duck band-aid on my hand and fairly well-situated boobs, you would think I was eighty.
Thank you for all the well-wishing. I can't really get up and walk around much (having a uterus removed will do that), so it's nice to sit here and feel reached out to. I feel reached out to. Is there a word for that so I don't have to end those last two sentences with prepositions?
You are lucky that I am basically immobilized with my bloated belly, because otherwise I would be able to find my camera and take pictures of my four incision sites.
Apparently, since that last sentence, you have become very unlucky, because I found my camera and took pictures of my incision sites, bandaged, of course. I don't want anyone to become ill. Too bad if you do, though, suckas.
Although my abdomen is killing me, the incision sites themselves do not hurt in the least. I almost wish they did, because they are all I have to show for my surgery yesterday. I am still sad that it wasn't possible to bring my uterus home in a jar. I could have been that creepy woman with the cats who keeps human organs in her closet. Now I am just the creepy woman with the cats, which has far less cache. Damn.
Now I feel bad about showing you bloody bandages. That was rude. Here, let me distract you with some clothespins:
And now, I must lie down. The doctors inflated me with gas in order to see my insides better, and the only way I seem to be able to fart it out is if I lie down. Between the "special panties" and the farting, I am cornering the market on appetizing, and I need to get my beauty sleep if I am going to keep this up.