Any Questions?

Well today was yet another day that reality came up & bitch-slapped me. Today I reached the 1 week until I go under the knife point & I had the pleasure of getting pre-op blood work & such done.

My first appointment for a physical if you can even call it that went something like this. . .
PA: "Can you list any medications you are on"
Me: (Hands over prescriptions) "Here you go."
PA: "Do you have any questions?"
Me: "I did. I mean I do. Well I think. I had a list but I forgot the list and I don't remember what was on the list which is why I wrote the list. Oh I know my manicurists wanted to know if I could keep the acrylics on"
PA: "That should be fine. You may need to take any nail polish off & the betadine may stain your fingers."

This probably would have been a good point to ask if I am having surgery on my shoulder why would the betadine stain my fingers? Notice I said probably cause I totally didn't ask that instead my brilliance continued.

Me: "Oh OK. What about moving my arm? Am I going to be allowed to move it at all."
PA: "For the first week NO!! That is why I just gave you an imobilizer*. After that only in PT for several weeks."

Suddenly a light bulb goes off. . .Immediately my mind races to the basic day to day stuff that requires 2 hands. . .How am I supposed to dry my hair, put on makeup, tie my damn shoes, cut something I want to eat, eat ice cream out of the container? I digress. . .


Me: "Wait if I can only move my arm in PT for several weeks that pretty much leaves driving out of the picture."
PA: "We don't recommend driving until you have more you of your arm."
Me: "But I thought once the stitches were out I could drive."
PA: "Nope. Any more questions?"

At this point I wanted to scream that even though my mother has been telling me for the last 3 weeks I am not going to be able to drive for a month after the surgery there MUST be some mistake. I have been driving for half of my life. On days when I don't start the Jeep it thinks we broke up and little tears of washer fluid fall down its glass cheek. Not to mention how in the hell am I supposed to get to PT in MA? 3 hours away from where my parents live with no family down here & friends that have PLENTY to keep them busy & don't need me calling bumming rides.

Oh but the fun it does not stop there. . .

Me: "Um yeah what about a bra? Am I going to be able to wear one?"

****STOP LAUGHING IT IS A VALID QUESTION Remember the landscapers?****

PA: "No. Based on where the incisions are going to be a bra strap will only irritate the surgical area. Anything else?"

At this point the poor PA looked so uncomfortable because she was trapped in a room with the shallow crazy woman I said no. I walked out to my car going how in the hell am I gonna handle walking the streets wearing an imobilier, not wearing a bra or make-up with bad hair & betadine stained fingers. Then I started laughing hysterically cause that is one funny visual.

Then I got to my next appointment where they told me no alchol for 24-48 hours before surgery. I had to stop myself from saying "You're joking right?" cause for some reason Marie didnt look like the type of healthcare professional that would find that funny.



*an imobilizer is what happens when an arm sling & a straight-jacket have a love child.

Letters From Home Vol. 4

Dear Policeman-
I understand that waiving your arms around directing traffic is a very demanding job. But here is a tip for you; your job is to prevent traffic back-ups. NOT cause them. Seriously after sitting in traffic for 15 minutes the last thing I want to see are you molars as you yawn. Once again thank you for making me late. By the way on the days you are not around. . .NO traffic. Go Figure!
Late for work,
Mel

Note to self:
DO NOT take on any more odd jobs. You can barely keep up with the ones you already have dumb ass!!
Smacking you upside the head:
Me


Dear Driver of the Silver Chevy Malibu-
I know you are old & you enjoy your afternoon drives. Here’s the thing you do, I don’t. The speed limit on Route 12 is 50 MPH NOT 30!! Please try to follow the posted signs.
Trying not to honk at you,
Mel


Summer-
Was it something I said? Honestly I didn’t mean it. Please give me another chance! I promise I will change.
Missing Sunshine,
Mel

Dear Bicycle People,
YOU SUCK!! You and your Share the road stickers can go to hell; in a wicker bicycle basket. I bike 4-8 miles everyday 9 months out of the year with a dog & manage to follow the rules of the road. I do not ride in the middle of the road, ride 4 across the road making it impossible for a car to get by or swerve into traffic making it impossible for cars to go around you. Do you see how all of those things are a problem?
I have decided I will share when you do!
Hogging the Road,
Mel

Dear Co-Worker that backs into parking spaces-
Dude, STOP! IT! Or learn how to back in into ONE spot. Seriously NOTHING is more irritating than seeing what you think is an empty space only to be FOILED by your inept parking job. Backing inbetween ANY 2 yellow lines does not a good parking job make. I plan on taking up a collection to send you back to drivers ed.
Thinking about deflating all of your tires,
Mel

Its been a while

Cause I suck and well there is the whole insanely busy thing. These days I feel like I am drowning in commitments; family, personal, professional. I feel like everyone wants a piece of me and it is all I can do to breathe.

First, there is the who work thing. Lets just say my job while a good one is far from my dream job. Sadly, the bottom fell out of the trophy wife market just as I broke onto the scene so teleco sales is what I settled for. I love my paycheck and my benefits; the golden handcuffs if you will that shackle me to my desk from 8:30 to 5:00 every freaking day.

My work days have gotten crazy hectic and he pressure is on. Not just me my co-workers as well and although I love them this is my blog, they have to go someplace else to bitch. Sorry guys! But the sell sell sell, balloons on my cube, notes about numbers are grating on my last nerve. I haven't even started on the people who make the same amount of money I do and barely carry their own weight.


Then my batshit crazy family. . .They call and call and call some more. If I have to answer questions about when I am having surgery or why one more time I am gonna scream. Then god love her my mom is planning out my recuperation as if it is a trip to Disneyland. I am gonna want 3 things post opp drugs, peace & quiet. My mother is gonna make a fuss and I may have to wash my painkillers down with vodka.

Don't get me wrong I am grateful that I have my family no matter how insane but sometimes I just wish they could tone down the crazy. I know they are concerned and are trying to be helpful but I would like one conversation to start without "I was thinking after your surgery..."

My friends are fabulous and supportive and listen to me bitch and moan and complain about everything. They take it all in without judgment even if they don't agree with the choices I am making or have made they are there. They give me shoulders to cry on and a smile or even a hug when I desperately need it. They each know me in some cases better than I know myself. Overprotective, supportive, and overall a fantastic bunch.

They sound perfect don't they? They totally are! How do I repay them? I don't return phone calls, emails or text messages. I am so wrapped up in my own life I forget that they need the same love & support from me. For that my friends I am truly sorry. Please know that I love you all and once my crazy life settles down I will be better about stuff. PINKY SWEAR!!

So now internet you can see how I am being pulled in different directions and there just isn't enough of me to go around. I know get in line behind the millions of other people who feel the same way and quit yer bitchin already and I promise once I hit publish, I will.