Hospitaling

I cried coming home from the hospital.

But I’ve cried every time I’ve walked down that walkway to the parking structure.

I cried on my bed.

I’m not crying going back to the hospital. I’m more determined when I drive there. Or resigned?

Maybe hopeful? The surgery was a success. So far. But the recovery is a bitch.

Currently googling “why is her resting heart rate so high”. So fucking tired of the beeping machine. I want to stab it.

I had my downtime from 230-730pm today. Starting writing this while eating ice cream at home.

Feel soooo sick from ice cream, three hours later.

Granted, it was coconut cream ice cream with… 4 ingredients? Well, the mint I purchased has 7 ingredients AND coconut sugar in it but it’s close enough to healthy. Coconut sugar is healthy. Right?

Right.

I did work out this morning at 5am.

So that helps?

I just checked G’s location on Find Friends and he’s almost to his destination. Two weeks off the grid.

Slightly off the grid. I did just see him online on Instagram. Low key paranoia that G is going to be washed away like the sweet little baby girls in the Texas flood. Don’t google, don’t google, don’t google.

I didn’t take a Tylenol PM last night. I should have. It was my night at home and I wanted to try sleeping without it.

The house was blissfully empty. I blasted the music. I sat at the bottom of my shower and cried. I did not turn on the AC. I should have. It was nice enough outside but I should have cooled the house down more. 12-2am was a bitch.

I should have taken the PM. And now I don’t know if I should take it tonight when I’m sleeping at the hospital. Last night she was up every hour, and threw in an EKG, chest x-ray, and a few other things at 11pm and that means I was a lucky girl to skip all that.

She wasn’t lucky but at least she has no bag? Successful surgery, after all.

Now googling “what else should we do to help dehydration”.

I emailed J yesterday and asked that he coordinate an installation of a bidet in two of our bathrooms. Our handyman has been out recently fixing a bunch of stuff (he’s illegal and omg, it’s so sad. The stories he’s telling us. The plans he’s had to make. The places he’s hiding at. Ahhh.). Anyway, J emailed me a bunch of questions including asking if I wanted hot water. Because the cold water ones were much easier to install.

I’m sorry. Who wants cold water on their ass?

I just took the PM.

The night before when I was sleeping with Sam, the wake-ups were midnight, 3am, 5am, and 6am. But I did get a good 6 hours of sleep, says my Health ap.

My cozy little nest. Sooo much better than the chair from December. So much.

The view is not bad either. So peaceful.

I would like to nominate Lululemon dance cargo pants for an award. Perfect for hospital lounging and sleeping. I’m so glad I have three pairs. I need new colors now. Retail therapy time?

Speaking of peaceful… I blasted music at home. Except when I tried to read.

I found cozy little benches tucked away behind a poster that looked out to the skyline of Orange County.

I enjoyed the 5 minutes of peace I sat there for on Thursday.

Not pictured; purple cargo dance pants.

I wrote long, meandering letters of sadness and tore them all up. Rather symbolically.

“Tears on the letter, I vow not to cry anymore”

And ceremoniously threw them in the trash in the courtyard of the hospital on Thursday.

It felt sort of good.

Sort of. I cried.

Damn it.

Today my horoscope told me to commit to my healing rituals.

Duh. But also, appropriate?

Some new additional healing rituals are me being klutzy and screaming out curses.

That is healing, no?

I went to switch out J at the hospital at 8pm and we were discussing logistics of Monday. I don’t think we will be going home tomorrow. If she is this dehydrated… I don’t know. But I took Monday off. I also took Tuesday off but there is a strat meeting that I really want to attend from 7-9am and I want sleep for it.

So as we were discussing his needs and my needs, we brought in Grandma schedules (mine is busy, his is not) and I was like.. I do not care but I can not sit and be social. I can’t do it. I can’t answer the same questions over and over again. No.

He just sort of stared at me.

My Mom already knows and is calling J for her updates. Ha.

Also, sorry Mom. But still.

I don’t want to text. I don’t want to sit and talk. Sometimes. If you sit with me, I will tolerate you but if you ask me questions, I will cut you.

But wait… healing rituals. Five minutes of peace.

Fuck it all.

Time for another bathroom break for S. Will it slow down tonight?

It’s a mystery.