So, today, in just a few hours, the Boyfriend will be home early from work so he can take me to my first doctor’s appointment since surgery. Said appointment will also be my first venture into the outside world since surgery. After three weeks, you’d think I would be screaming mad for any human interaction. I am not excited.
It’s currently 17 degrees outside. Not terrible, but not what most of us consider comfortable. Especially when some of us have recently had not one but two 1 lb. hunks of metal and uber-plastic inserted into our asses. Those of us who have recently had not one but two 1 lb. hunks of metal and uber-plastic inserted into our asses have stepped outside just far enough to realize that now, during the healing process, said 1 lb. hunks of metal gets pretty cold pretty fast and both you and your ass muscles are aware that something mechanical is inside you where normally there was formerly only body temperature bones and stuff.
It’s not like putting your stupid tongue on a flagpole to see if it sticks (it will, asshole, but kids still persist in trying it every year), but it is very much an awareness that the cold outside is suddenly inside as well, not to frostbite levels, just cold, like an icepack, welcome after a soccer game injury but not welcome walking from the car to the doctor’s office.
But really, that’s just minor stuff. Excuses. I love my doctor and his staff. They have been nothing but wonderful to me and made this entire rather nerve-racking process extremely easy. The roads are clear, and it will be a nice drive in and out with my Boyfriend, with sunshine and the opportunity to see what the rest of the neighborhood looks like covered in two weeks worth of snow. We’ll be home early and can cook something interesting for dinner and have a lovely evening.
Still, I’m going to miss my afternoon nap. It’s not an everyday thing, but it’s a pretty often thing.
I think I’m at that place, mentally, where I’m rejecting the outside world as mostly unnecessary, but I understand that reaching that point allows me to come back to it later and discover it all over again and embrace it and love it and be a part of it.
But right now, I may as well have LEAVE ME ALONE tattooed to my forehead. Perhaps, later, I can tattoo LET ME HUG YOU IN A NON-SEXUAL WAY on my forehead instead. If I were the type if freaking idiot would though face tattoos were a good idea.