Surgery Chronicles

 

 

I had my surgery and I am now at home. I was really mad- doctor was running two hours behind and I had to lay there with my IV in waiting my turn. Finally I went in for surgery and he did his thing.
 

 

Once in recovery... I WAKE UP to the nurse

yelling "Wake Up Mary" to a deaf woman next to me.

 

I beg to be discharged to my room.

 

The nurse said I couldn't because my oxygen was low.  I looked over and realized she was reading from a machine which was hooked up wrong.

 

Finally back in my room, I slept seven hours, and then got up-- and peed all over myself.  I was so

embarrassed!  However, the next day I had dropped my nurse's call button and I tried  to unhook myself so I use the bathroom on my own.  Somehow I pulled the wrong line and sprayed my blood all over the room. It got on the floor, dresser, bed, and even the curtains. I called the nurses in finally and
realizing my mess, I suggested they look on the floor.  Poor nurses.

How can I not get depressed?  Even two days in a hospital can get crazy.

I admit I do it.

 

 

Accusations

 

 

Yesterday I was in full "glum."  I know, glum sounds like a word from a fairy tale where the old woman sat at the wooden table feeling glum. 

Glum-

blue, bummed out, dejected, depressed, dismal, dispirited, down, gloomy, low, melancholy, morose, sad, sulky

I talked to my guy this morning and asked if he wanted to

hear the accusations I have.  No he said calmly, because they are just accusations.

 

 

 

 

 



Silent Saturday

 

 

Today was a Silent Saturday.

 

When I was in  group therapy, members often

talked about isolation.

 

I completely understood as I have

 isolated myself plenty.

 

1. Today I never left the house despite the fact it was a gorgeous day.
2. The phone never rang.
3. I only talked to my animals.
4. I took a long nap.
5. I did email with my friend and told her my insecurities.
6. I ate a lot.

 

This is how it feels.

Procrastination and 11:11

 

Pro-  projects which go unfinished. (cleaning, organizing, purging, art making)
        
cras-  +(h) things which pile up until they crash.

tin-  (reverse tin)  Intention I stand here alone, but I have good intentions to change my surroundings. I have too many things to clutter my mind and the space in which I live.  I have limited time to remove the clutter and start healing.  #11:11

a-  Mom, Friend, Artist   -vs- unhealthy -vs- the rest of my life.

tion-  Saving my "Imagina-tion." <3 U  FOR MY oxo's
__________________________________________

http://1111progressgroup.org/     http://www.dimension1111.com/angels.html  

 



S-u-r-g-e-r-y...and IKEA

In a few days I will be heading off to surgery.  I told my doctor--"It's kinda empty in there isn't it?"
I pictured my body looking like elbow macaroni.  I was now hollow, with a big butt and bent over.

The doctor said "NO, your body fills in."  Okay, so no longer elbow macaroni... maybe a taco?




My daughter is leaving for school soon. Big problem has been getting her a mattress.  I had two at my home but no way to transport to her college.  Note to self:  a mattress does not fit in a Honda.

So, along with tons of other mom and college-aged children,  we trek off to IKEA. How times change! Days are gone with crayons and Cinderella folders.

A Mom too!

This artist is also the mom to two grown daughters.  I remember my first college apartment.  My dad (RIP) had a truckload of furniture magically appear at my apartment and I said thanks at the time-- but had no idea what it takes to get it there.

Daughter #2 didn't realize you couldn't drive the interstate with a mattress strapped to the roof of  mom's car.  Who knew?  (She does get it honest as her parent's first queen size bed came home on  the top of her dad's Fiesta in the rain.)

How did I know I would be going to garage sales with her today... and be following the signs to "Empty the House" from a guy from Michigan with a metal dumpster half filled in the drive making deals.  Poor guy, I told my daughter, he's here for three days and he is trying to knock this out in one weekend. The house smelled like pee I thought.  Thirty-five dollars later, we had her bedroom nearly complete. 

I just saw the house on the Google map tonight--and realize now there are some dag-gone rickety steps to climb to enter this second floor space. I'm not climbing those I said.  This isn't my apartment.

I'm driving a car load of your belongings up to school tomorrow.  No magic delivery.

Oh Geeezze!

 

 

Oh Geeezze!

 

Yesterday, I was on edge wondering what would happen

with my quilt exhibition in Fall City, WA.

My friend kept me posted and she said the visitors were

happy to see my quilts and gave positive comments.

 

Reality: I had to call a  plumber to repair my leaking kitchen sink

yesterday. It was flooding my counter tops.

There was also a leak under the sink.

This mess under the sink and the plumber's bill were my

reality check.

_____________________

 

Today, I went to hear a motivational speaker. 

She seemed to pick me out in the crowd and was calling out to me in a sweet tone. 

At break time, I went to use the restroom, where the toilet flooded on me

leaving my shoes and pants soaked.  I felt l had to leave. 

I let someone know I was going to report it and went to my car.

The speaker followed me downstairs and seemed to want me back.

Sorry, I told her, I needed to leave and showed her my pants.

We had a hug and said we would get in touch by email.

                                                _________________________

 

I'm on a roll now.... will I need a plumber tomorrow?



Many thanks to those I share my love of art quilting.

 Well, it hit me!

 

 

Last night- right before I fell asleep it hit me. In just a couple of days

my art quilts get to be on display, to speak for themselves.

Although they were created by me some time ago, the designs I created

were clearly in the moment.
 

What really happens after that moment is you set it aside.  Sometimes to review, cut a thread,
but mostly, it goes into my closet.  What was I really thinking when it was being created?

Did the fabrics come together with careful planning?  Did I just grab the blue fabric on top?
Did my ideas really play out? 

Will my energy be there in the room which displays them?  Will I be able to have others understand my message?  Will I be proud?  I think so.  
I can hear best wishes from my friends.

I am an artist.  Repeat.  My work can stand alone.


My depression fears linger.

May I finally ignore those hurtful remarks, (still lingering in my head,) by a quilt teacher in class-- to me and to others.  First time I had a art quilt teacher so critical. Her message was not about her being in love with the moment she created her art. She loved the production and the sales. So glad I am not her.  So glad.