Yesterday was a good day, but last night was not a good night. During the day I did the party invite, read, rested, had lunch with STACEY ALDSTADT (she Googles herself apparently, and wants more hits) and then Dulce (DULCE PENA in case she Googles too!) stopped by for a visit. A nice day. But then I didn't sleep well (and there was no pasta in heavy cream sauce to blame). And when I did sleep I had a dream I had no hands, but "they" gave me artificial hands on a stick that I could hold onto and that would give me hands. Yeah, even in my dream I was saying "this really makes no sense--if I can hold on to the sticks....." But really, you don't fall back asleep after a dream like that. You stay up analyzing it until your head falls off. So what else was there to do? Right, I lay there thinking about how expensive this whole cancer thing was going to be and how I was not going to be able to work enough to earn enough to...well, live... and spiral, spiral, spiral, ever downward. But yeah, a couple of cups of Starbucks French Roast and I was feeling better. (So right, I got up early).
I decided to try to just "act normal" (this is not, actually, something I've ever been good at). I even did all that normal shower, hair, make-up stuff in practice for returning to work tomorrow. Of course, it exhausted me but that was nothing a little nap couldn't fix. I'll be honest, the incision from the lymph node removal is not a comfortable one (just think about stitches in your underarm and you'll get my point). I'm not sure if I'm supposed to try to use my arm, or try to keep it still--it's my right side and I'm right-handed, so option B is hard. And I didn't want to bug my doctor on the weekend (even though I bet he works weekends). Anyway, I pushed through.
And then my most long-term, dearest friend Corby (CORBY RHODES; even though I'm pretty sure she doesn't Google) and her mom DONNA MONTGOMERY (yeah, no way she's googling herself, but what the heck) came for a visit and made me laugh and relax. Corby and I have been friends since I was 13 years old (so, like, 20 years...), and Donna was my "other mother" in high school, so it was great to see them both. Plus, Corby's a newlywed so the wedding video and honeymoon pictures were a terrific distraction. Oh, and there was some football game on somewhere. (Self-absorbed? What?)
I came to the conclusion that I'm not much good sitting around "healing"--I'm sure I'll have plenty of practice and there is certainly room for improvement. But for now, I'm thinking I can heal sitting in a chair in front of my phone and computer at work as easily as this recliner at home. And here's my proof I'm getting stir crazy:
Something made us think this was a "celebrity pose" (they have celebrities in psych wards, no?), but it looks more like I'm demonstrating that I'm swollen from where the surgery was, because, well, I am...
Big day ahead tomorrow. Back to work I go. Hi ho, hi ho (or is it High, low, high low?)