So two productive things happened after my little surgery on Monday: One is we took photos for Christmas cards. Yeah, well, you all know damn well it wasn’t my idea. Heh. Although, I did tell Mr. Shoe that if we put two chairs together and sat there it would look a lot like one of those hostage videos… “Yes, even though we are horrible infidels who must die, we are being treated wondrously well…” And Mr. Shoe’s knees were being dumb, and then I’d have to pick up Penny while juggling the camera remote. (If you are wondering, Mr. Shoe’s knees are being difficult because… well, our sweet GP says it is just this thing that usually happens to women who have squished babies from their vaginas. She did… and I’m not sure what I missed there, but I hope I missed something. Men, knees, babies, vaginas. Go figure.)
The second thing was that I saw my sleep doctor, and could tell him that what was removed from my hip was not in fact a huge friggin’ Ritalin deposit. I did indeed tell him this. He was appreciative, because I know damn well he’s heard it all.
Basically, here is the deal: I know what I was told, which was what Mr. Shoe was told, which is what we had been suspecting (yep, my ass cheek is going to be what calls it). But we don’t know the real particulars. We might not by my follow up on the 8th. We should by the next one on the 14th. Also, the incision, despite being smaller than it would have been thanks to the hook wires, is pretty good sized. What’s even more remarkable is that I was joking when I said I’d have half an ass. But(t) — the excision required that muscle be removed as well. I didn’t think it would be that much muscle. I mean, it was only about an inch of tumor, and then… I mean, my ass takes up negative space. I know some of you think that’d be a good thing — it isn’t. It is weird. Also, it makes me feel lopsided when I sit on the toilet.
It wasn’t that bad in and of itself. What sucks is this recovery part of the whole shebang. I have a few more days of suddenly hitting the wall hard ahead of me, I suspect. Not that it really hurts much or anything… But all of a sudden I feel like I just had surgery. Go figure. So not much has happened this week at all beyond a doctor’s visit and this photo.
Also, Mr. Shoe didn’t want to use this particular photo on the cards, so we opted for another one. He says he looks weird in this one (yeah, well, join the club, dude.) Because he didn’t want it memorialized on a holiday card, it instead will forever haunt a wider audience on the internet. Poor sweet long-suffering Mr. Shoe. Hee hee.