Blah blah blah, surgery

Blah blah blah A WHOLE MONTH OFF TO RECUPERATE.

A. WHOLE. MONTH.

The funny thing is, when I first got my disability information for surgery I was like, ” THE FUCK they mean a whole month? What exactly are they doing that I’m going to be off for that amount of time?!”  I started envisioning frankenboob with tubes and such, and me lying in bed in horrible agony because why else would I have so much time off to heal?

And then I had surgery. Which, you know… was surgery. The first day, @laprimera hand delivered these babies from @emmiej and @undomesticdiva. Which I …and The Man, enjoyed. I even tweeted about them. High on Vicodin, because I HAD SURGERY GUYS. I’m not a machine.

But then I felt weird because I had surgery. I am SUPPOSED to be in agonizing pain, right?  Too hurt to do anything but pop pills and sleep. Too broken to send daily (okay, every other day) emails for Black History Month? Which, I also send to my manager, WHO KNOWS THAT I’M OUT FOR A MONTH.

Nope.

I’m in pain, don’t get me wrong. But not it’s debilitating. I am capable tweeting and tumbling my heart out. I can have visitors; I can still walk around.

I’m in purgatory: Too sick to really do anything, but too well to sit around on my ass all day. It sucks. Because I want to do more, but I can’t really. Or at least I can’t without being in pain.

I had a doctor’s appointment today. That I went to alone, like a big girl. I drove myself, and reported back to The Man because he had to work. And then I had to go to class because I can sit in the back of the class and zone out just as well as I can sit and stare into space at home.

Yes, in case you were interested, I’m in some pain. NO, I’m pretty sure it’s not gonna kill me. Though to be honest, I wouldn’t mind some ice on it and some tylenol. But I’ll be home in hour. And when I get there I will pop a pain pill and settle into bed for a nap.

And until then, I’m going to assume that whoever thought a month was how long it was going to take me to feel like myself knew what the fuck they were doing, and stop feeling guilty for the things that I *do* feel well enough to do.

Hopefully this will include Jack Daniels soon enough.