My Life in Paradise

because I only wish I could make this sh*t up…

Knee Surgery aka Stress Testing Your Relationship

Last week I went to see an orthopedic surgeon.  I needed more and better pain pills for my ongoing knee problem.  What I left with was no prescription and an “I’ll see you in the OR on Monday!” SOOOOOOO…… I left the OR on Monday with a prescription and a “We’ll talk about your knee replacement surgery in two weeks…Get some rest..”

Oh shit…..SHIT…..really??  Yes….. really!!

So a few months into my relationship with Mr.Monster the universe decides making me helpless and hopped up on pain pills is a good way to challenge us both.  To give you an idea of what I feel like when I’m incapacitated I suggest the following exercise:

  • you go to the local zoo
  • find the tiger exhibit
  • trip the keeper and don’t feed the tiger for 2 weeks
  • then saunter into the cage of the underfed tired and expect to not be made into dinner
  • Oh come on – I’m waiting with a video camera…..

Two weeks in the life of a tiger is really 4 days post op for me.

Today is Thursday and I can’t walk, I can’t shower, and no surface is comfortable for longer than a 2 hour nap.  Mr.Monster would probably prefer I was pushing up daises just about now.  My alarm is set for pain pills every 6 hours which for the first 24 hours didn’t work so I was awake and in agony.  The surgeon added an amplifier and now they work too well so I’m asleep, groggy, cranky, asleep, generally unhappy, fidgety, cranky, and biiiitchy and mostly asleep..

So this weeks life lessons…

<don’t retire and get fat>

<if my relationship survives knee surgery it can survive WWIII>

<being helpless sucks more, not less, as I age>

<<THE END>>

 

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I have no idea what the %&^* I’m doing….no really I don’t….

Most people have a path.  Some people wander about.  I’m somewhere in between off road, on road, lost and found in a foreign country littered with antiques, broken glass, laughing clown dolls and backwards monkeys.  Said foreign country is often only in my mind or my storage unit both of which are significantly disorganized.  When I feel like I have no north star I re-read my favorite post by TheBloggess.

EXCERPT: But what’s nice is that instead of feeling like a failure for falling backward into life, I woke up this morning feeling better…for choosing to dive in – albeit backward, eyes closed, chaotically, and possibly into broken glass or hyenas.  I think that’s called “growth”.  Or denial.  Hard to tell.

So this morning I didn’t feel better about my life, but rereading Bloggess I did/do feel less alone.  I didn’t feel better about coffee, a bagel, or the two sections of pharmacology I finished.  I didn’t feel better that after how many years in school I’ve made so many left turns I feel hardly closer to my goal even though I am closer.  Denial?  Growth? Adulthood? Taco Salad?  How’s that for a blog post of nothing and everything that will only make sense 5 years from now when my diplomas are in hand and I’m working in a clinic doing things and stuff and such..  So here I am diving in backwards -again-.

<the end of less interesting reading that a garbage disposal installation guide>

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Insights from Target or North vs. South

Mr.Monster and I are in the DC/Reston area for Labor Day weekend.  We went to see Lawless since it’s about bootleggers in Virginia and well, Mr.Monster is related to those people……best to know who you are sleeping with!  I digress, but only kind of…

There is a distinct difference between “up north” and “down south” and it’s more than just accents, the liberal use of bacon or the conservative nature of the residents.  In a very short, romantic, amazing month I’ve become accustomed to something in the south – polite and mostly friendly people.

Walk into any store, gas station, cafe, anywhere and people smile, greet you, say please and thank you etc. etc.  In the south (thus far) no one acts like a linebacker going for the bread or the apples.  There is no “get.the.fuck.out.of.my.way” race from the checkout to the front door.  

Maybe it’s having gone from Hawaii, where we live aloha, to the south, where politeness is cultural that being in DC bothers me.  It’s not a huge bother, but it’s enough to remind me that contrary to popular belief I don’t much care for cities or city folk.  After our last trip to target so that I could procure monkey socks and polka dot shoes, I looked at Mr.Monster and said “I’m ready to go back home now please….”  Mr. Monster snickered and later the same day so did my uncle Mr.CrankyPants and my dear friend TheDragon, all of whom hail from the south…..  

There are many things I thought I would do with my life and many places I thought I would live – the south I assure you was not on that list, but neither was love.  So along with having already fallen madly in love with one very handsome and kind Mr. Monster – I’m falling in love with the southern half of Virginia.  So I can add loving being in the south to 101 things I never thought I would say or do, but isn’t that exactly how life works out most of the time?

<end – nothing else to read – go buy me shoes!>

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