My sister sent me this “Today in history” thing this morning:
It was about 4:00 in the morning on this day in 1888 when a constable on patrol in London’s Whitechapel slum found the body of a woman named Mary Ann Nichols near a slaughterhouse. She was the first victim of the most famous murderer in the history of true-crime literature, a man who became known as Jack the Ripper. More books have since been written about Jack the Ripper than all the American presidents combined.
Creepy.
Also kind of oddly synchronous, since yesterday and today I’ve been reading up on the Black Dahlia case, and checking out books from the library.
Oh yeah, and I promised Jj pictures – I should get those up while I’m feeling up to it.
In order of how grody I find them (least to most):
the one kind of right below and between my boobs, which is healing quite nicely
the one higher up on the side of my abdomen
the one lower on the side of my abdomen, whose scab came off
the side wounds together, so you get an idea of placement
them bandaged
my grody belly button, that i had to bandage not because it was leaking, but because its existence bothered me so much
I should also probably give a shout-out to Nexcare’s Absolute Waterproof Premium Adhesive Pad (known in hospitals as 3M Tegaderm Dressing + Pad), because it’s tight. That shit is ABSOLUTELY waterproof, which is awesome. And it’s much more comfortable to sleep on than my ghetto gauze and tape – AND it’s more comfortable coming off. I don’t know how they made an adhesive that’s breathable AND waterproof, much less one that stays on so well and yet doesn’t hurt or tear my skin coming off (like their tape did, ahem), but kudos to them for it. And that’s the end of my free ad for Nexcare.
For those of y’all who want to see pictures but not THOSE pictures (and I don’t blame you), here are some pictures of those bomb-ass earrings that came with the Susan Stars Skirt Kit. I know I said I’d get all gussied up and shit (and I do clean up good), but I was feeling assy, so you’ll have to excuse me this time. I’ll try and be extra cute next time I post pictures of myself, or at least not still in my pjs. Anyways, the earrings.
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[Rick James voice]Oxycodone is a helluva drug.[/RJv]
Holy shit, you guys. So all last week I was taking oxycodone like every three or four hours, sometimes more than one pill at a time – I was hurting, right?
I tried not to take it so often over the weekend, because I didn’t want to have to go through withdrawal while I was back at work. Well, that didn’t work out like I’d planned. I had to leave early yesterday, and I had to stay home all day today. And I felt fucking miserable – diarrhea, nauseous like you wouldn’t believe, the sweats, abdominal pain, and it all seemed to get worse when I ate. I called the hospital a couple times to talk to the general surgery resident on call, and make sure I wasn’t like, dying or anything. (Nope, just a big baby.) Anyway, after the last call to the hospital, I called Greg (around 6 this evening), and he was all, “Sounds like withdrawal to me. Go take a pill.” And what do you know, I took a pill and felt almost instantly better – whether it’s the oxycodone (which *is* fast-acting) or whether it’s psychosomatic, I don’t know. I guess I’ll have a better idea after I go eat some food, and see if I feel like ass right after.
Anyhoodle, I sat down and counted out my little pills, and worked up a time table for the next week to try and ease myself off them. You know, one every four hours today, one every five hours tomorrow, every six hours the next day, and so on, except for while I’m sleeping (and hopefully my body won’t wake me up wanting a pill like it did last week), until I run out. I hope to hell this works, because I am fucking miserable. And I am really tired of staying home, missing work, and ESPECIALLY missing class. I missed the second class today. Damn. I really need a syllabus, so I know what to read, and I was really excited about that class, and I just feel like the professor must think I’m a slackass. Although I suppose the four holes in my abdomen might convince her otherwise.
I know you can get addicted to pain meds in like three days (or I know now, thanks to Dave) – but I was really hoping I could just dispense with all this bullshit. Oh well. Alright, I’m going to try and eat something, and hopefully I won’t feel like throwing up right after. BLEAH.
Well, that didn’t work at all. And not only did the plastic wrap not keep water out, it kept the shit in! Damn. And it used up almost all my tape to keep the plastic wrap on, so I’ve got to run out and get more tonight. Oh well.
So, Jj has requested pictures of my grody wounds and scabs and shit. So I’ll be taking pictures of those later – but not to worry! I’m putting up text links to them, not little thumbnails, so you won’t have to see them if you don’t want to.
Also, a pair of sweet red earrings came with my Susan Stars skirt kit. They are my new favorite pair, and I’ve been wearing them almost constantly. I’ll take a picture when I’m all prettied up later today (we’re going to Raleigh to watch the UFC payperview tonight) – right now I look kinda grungy because I’ve just been sewing (making kitties) and stuff, and sweating. So, I want to take a shower before I take any pictures of myself.
Which brings me to my other news: one of my scabs came off last night. I have no idea why – I wasn’t scratching it, it didn’t brush against anything, and the wound under it doesn’t look like it’s done healing, so I don’t think it was just time for the scab to come off. It’s kinda gross, actually, and I was really freaked out at the time. Anyway, so I called the hospital today to see if I needed to come in and have it glued closed again, and they said no, gauze would still be fine and not to worry too much. BUT – when I shower, since there’s no scab on to protect it, I have to cover the wound with plastic wrap to keep out soap, water, and bacteria. Fun stuff, huh. We’ll see how it goes. I’m a little nervous, to be honest. That wound is grody-looking, and makes me want to cry, and if the plastic wrap comes off in the shower or something, well, I’ll probably have a little freak-out. Yeesh.
Here are the balls of Bravo Crazy Color I got from Elann:
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I also picked up some fabric and notions at JoAnn’s Thursday. The day before my surgery, the Susan Stars skirt kit I ordered showed up – yay! I chose the pink and brown flowers fabric. I really love the fabric, so Greg suggested I make a skirt out of muslin first, to make sure I’d gotten the pattern right, before cutting up my precious, precious fabric. So I got some muslin at JoAnn’s – and then we found some sweet black floral lace material in the sales fabrics, so I got some to make another skirt. (And I can wear the muslin one underneath for decency, eh?) Anyway, here are those fabrics:
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You might remember how excited I was to get this pattern again:
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I’ve been wearing the dress I made out of it all week, when I can’t wear my nightgown, because the waist is high enough that it’s not on my wounds – the dress is actually rather loose and flowy around my midsection, which is exactly what I want to wear right now. But I’ve only got the one dress, and I’ve been meaning to make some more (since it’s my favorite dress) for a while, and now seems like a good time to get around to it. Anyway, you might recognize the first fabric from when I made curtains about a year ago for the house. I’ve got a ton of that fabric left, and I think it might make a nice dress. The second fabric is some I got from my friend Niku before she moved to Austin – it’s really neat fabric, I’m totally psyched about making it into a dress. It’s also pretty light, so I think it’ll make a great hot-weather dress. The only downside is it looks like it might be a little thin, verging on see-through, so I might need a slip for under it. (I don’t think I’m quite up to lining the whole dress, but we’ll see.) But I wouldn’t want like a polyester (or whatever) slip, because that would be sweaty. So maybe a cotton slip? Do people make and sell those, or am I going to have to sew one myself? Oh well. Anyway, and the third fabric is this purple fabric with a small floral pattern that I got from JoAnn’s.
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Greg and I just got back from seeing Snakes on a Plane, which was fucking awesome! I loved it!
What was NOT awesome, was the 30- & 40-something wannabe hipsters in the two rows behind us who wanted to talk throughout the entire movie. Seriously, they started talking during the previews – and they weren’t even being witty, but were cracking themselves up. (You know the type – they think they’re comedians or some shit, but need to keep their dayjobs.) It was so bad that early on in the movie, *I* actually turned around and asked them if they were going to talk the *entire* movie. I mean, I’m a pussy – if I turn around and say something to you in a movie theater, you’re being a REAL ass. And THEN, seconds after I said something and this one 45-y-o-looking womyn (I’m not dissing on age, y’all, I’m just saying she DEFINITELY should have known better) was all, “No, we won’t, we’re sorry.” Mere seconds after that, a friend of hers a couple seats down shouted a “woohoo” for no reason, and I gave him a dirty look and he had the GALL to react as if I was being unreasonable. I’m sorry, but this bitch did not gauze up her sore, bleeding wounds and cart her sorry ass to the theater to pay EIGHT motherfucking dollars a ticket to listen to *your* lame ass TRY to be witty. No, I came here to watch Snakes on a Plane, and I’m expecting to hear it as well – at least until actual snakes show up.
These fuckers were cracking up and trying to crack some pretty weak jokes in the beginning of the movie – during the plot set-up. Like, the snakes hadn’t even shown up yet, nothing funny was going on. DAMN. And all those fuckers were at least ten years older than me – and some of them twenty. I mean, that’s grown enough to know how to behave in a damn movie theater. Okay, pull that shit in a dollar theater, maybe – 1-I don’t go to the dollar theater (because it is scary) and 2-you’re only out a buck-fifty anyway. (I know, right, the damn dollar theater charges a buck-fifty. Lame. Then again, I don’t go there anymore.) But not in a real, $8-per-damn-ticket, other-people-be-trying-to-watch-this-movie-too theater. You guys are ALL ASSES, and you are not cool scenesters, and you just suck. And really, I know you’re telling yourself you’re watching Snakes on a Plane in an ironic fashion, because you’re hip like that – but if that’s the cause, why is your ass so excited about it that you’re willing to pay $8 a ticket to see it in the first-run theaters, hmm? That’s right, because you really do want to see this movie – you’re just trying to claim it’s “ironic” because you don’t want anyone to think you’re a loser who would actually like this movie.
Which also pisses me off. I am SO OVER people being all “…but in an ironic fashion” because they can’t admit they actually like something. Who gives a fuck. Snakes on a Plane was hella entertaining – it was fucking awesome, off the chain, however you want to call it. I am not going to think less of you for wanting to see it – I was in the theater, too. I AM going to think less of you for talking throughout the whole damn thing, and for trying to act like you’re just there because it’s ironic. Whatevs. I’m over hipsters. I’m not over people not acting right in movie theaters (do that shit in your own home, damn) – but apparently I’m getting better at saying something and not worrying about whether I’ll look like a bitch. I wasn’t that bitchy, either, and I could’ve been. Whatevs. That movie was the shit! You should totally go see it.
And there was one lady (not with the hipsters) who talked a couple of times during the movie, but, see, she was actually funny, and said funny shit at times when the mood of the theater was such that everyone laughed with her, and no one got grumpy that she said something. So I’m not just some mean old bitch who can’t appreciate other people having a good time, or just relax or whatever – that’s not it at all. But this other lady knew to keep her mouth shut for most of the film, too. And when she did say something, it was one quick sentence or word – not like a whole monologue of shit that was trying to be funny in an ironic way.
Oh! my! GOD! Fuck all you po-mo ironic hipsters. Go live on Mars or some shit. Wait til the movie comes out on DVD, rent it, watch it with all your lameass friends, and y’all can all laugh over your non-funny jokes in the privacy of your own ironically decorated apartment. Leave me and my husband and my $16 for tickets and the actual public movie theater and the other moviegoers the fuck alone.
The kitties have been especially sweet this week. It could be they’re excited that someone’s home during the day. It could be that they’re just naturally sweet, and wanted to help me feel better by keeping me company. Or – and I think this might be closer to the mark – it could be that they wanted to take advantage of a human-sized source of heat that was laying around the house for most of the week. I got up a couple times to go to the bathroom, get some food, whatever – but for the most part I was laying down and either sleeping or trying not to move (so I didn’t hurt myself). So the cats have been laying on me ALOT. I think it also had something to do with me being too out of it to try and pet them, so they got to lay on me on their own terms. Anyway, I couldn’t take a picture of them while they were laying on me, but I did manage to get this cute picture of them hanging out in the living room with me – Skeeter’s on the couch I stayed on, and Chalupa’s on the old couch (which is still behind the new one, since we haven’t decided what to do with it yet – and also, I can’t help Greg move it since I’m a weakling for the next six weeks):
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Also, and I meant to post this earlier, but Blogger was acting up – last night I finally got to sleep in the bed again, as opposed to on the couch.
I HAVE BEEN TAKING MY BED FOR GRANTED.
I realized that when I woke up today. While I’ve been sleeping on the couch, I have been waking up every three hours – more or less on the nose – because that’s when I’m due for another dose of oxycodone. I woke up a couple times during the evening last night – not enough more or less than the past couple nights for me to notice. Anyway, I wake up at 7:30 when Greg’s getting ready to go to work, and I’m due for another oxycodone, so I take one, and go back to sleep. And don’t wake up again until 2:00 – meaning I slept right through two “doses,” one at 10:30, and another at 1:30. And the only reason I woke up at 2:00 was because I had to pee – not because I was hurting enough to wake up, because I wasn’t. And I could’ve gone straight back to sleep afterwards. I figure that means my bed is at least as good at 10 mg of oxycodone, in terms of providing me enough comfort to sleep.
Holy shit, beds are the bomb.com. You should go take a nap right now, and just snuggle in your bed and really appreciate it for supporting you and being comfortable and shit, and yeah. You might think – like I did, pre-surgery – that your bed isn’t all that. Maybe, like ours, it needs some boxsprings or, like ours, the mattress is a little beat up. But if you’re having any doubts as to whether or not beds are in fact the shit, spend a week sleeping on a couch, and then go back to your bed. It’s the best, EVER! My goodness.
