Sneezing gone awry

Friday, February 17, 2012

nose: Oh...that tickles...that REALLY tickles!! All I need is a small sneeze for this one. I'll have to call the brain.

nose rings over to brain

brain: Hello nose! How are things over there?
nose: Oh there's always the ups and downs. At the moment I've got an awful itch! Could you do me a favor? 
brain: I know exactly what you need! I'll talk to all the muscles needed for the job.
nose: Oh thank you! Thank you!

brain rings down to abs, pecs, and throat

throat: Hey brain! What's goin on up there? Neck told me he had a feelin something was goin down.
brain: Oh nothing big. It's just that nose has quite the tickle he needs getting rid of.
throat: Oh that's nothing. We'll take care of him. I'll get things started.
brain: Great. I'll just relay to pecs and abs.

pecs: Brain? What is it?
brain: A sneeze is in order. 
pecs: All right. I'm on it.

abs: Brain! I haven't heard from you in a few days. 
brain: Well things have been pretty quiet since the surgery. You up for a sneeze yet?
abs: Ummm... Lemme check. *grunt* *grumble* OUCH! Oh no...nope I can't do it yet!
brain: Uh oh...I'd better stop the sneeze!!!

The body winds up ready for the pitch. Every part ready for impact.

 brain over body system intercom

brain: CEASE FIRE!! CEASE FIRE!! Abs can't help yet. Nose...I'm sorry. But you're just gonna have to deal with it for now. Maybe next time buddy.



Thursday, February 16, 2012

Change. It doesn't bode well for some people. The worst is when it comes and kills the uniformity of habit. Especially if it's a good habit. For example:

The Kitchen Garbage Can

The garbage can has always resided under the kitchen sink. Always. Forever. Since before time and even the creation of time. So growing up, I always walked into the kitchen opened the cupboard door without thinking and tossed the undesirable trash into the trash receptacle where it belonged. All of 23 years I've done this. Without too much complicated thought to the process either. 

Today, it got stinky as garbage cans are wont to do. Mumsy put it out in the garage, I suppose to make it think about what it's done. ;)

Every blasted thing I throw away I have to make the long trip to the garbage can. First to the kitchen to it's usual residence under the sink to where the frustration lies.

Every time I open the door and look in to find the bare spot, I curse (the clean kind of cursing of course) and make my way either to the laundry room or the garage where the garbage cans actually are. Twice the amount of effort for something I don't particularly care for. That's the point of throwing it away you see. Blasted change. No matter how much I tell myself I won't go back to the empty cupboard, the pure FORCE of habit makes me go and open the door again and again and AGAIN!

I guess it's good for the exercise in the least.


Entrails become extrails

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Okay not really. Just an update on my surgically removed lump.

After a drug-induced blackout and a hazy awakening, I found myself in one of those hospital rooms. Yep. One of those. All clean and white.

Clean. Or so you think. Everything has a pristine smell. But beyond the pristine is a reeking chemical smell. Medicines, Clorhexydine, bleach, starch. Leaves a weird taste in everyone's mouth. Beeping, wires, iv catheters, all the weird hospital things.

There's a difference between hospital clean and home clean.

Home clean has a warmth and coziness. Soaps smell of pretty and flowers. All sorts of loveliness makes the home clean like citrus smells, mint smells, lavender smells, even comet has a nice friendly home smell.

Hospital clean isn't warm or cold, it's very detached and isolated. No friendliness in this clean. If not for the nurses and their kindness it would be a grim experience.

Nurses are angels. No doubt about it. Forgoing their own comfort to constantly ensure the comfort and satisfaction of their wards.

If not for the effects of Insanity and P90X workouts and regular running, my recovery would be longer-lasting. With a foundation of abs of steel (insert a small amount of sarcasm...just a small amount though, my doctor said I was the healthiest patient he'd had and he could tell I took care of my body because my muscles were well toned...insert some pride here at this moment...) I am on a fast track to recovery. I think my inability to be an invalid for long and my stubbornness to do things on my own will contribute as well. My main thing now is to NOT overdo it.  Easier said than done.

In which case my entrails would become my extrails...


A word on being cut open

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

6 am. That's when I have to be there. 

NOT when I have to open my eye lids to a dark world.
NOT when I have to awake myself and arouse my faculties. 
NOT when I have to take a shower to scrub the special antibiotic soap all over my bacteria-ridden body. 
NOT when I have to prepare myself for my doom.
NOT when I have to leave my home to get to the hospital. 

I'm the first 'case.' That's right. The lucky girl that arrives at 6 am. 

6 am. Oh how I haven't missed you. Lucky for me, I get to be knocked out for a couple of hours to make up for it. That's when they cut me open. Yup. Like in the child's game, Operation. 

Tools needed...true story

Only for real. 

Due to many hilarious stories of delirious post-anesthetic behaviors, I'm leaving my phone in the care of my beloved mother who will be sane and drug-free at all times. She will be in possession of the device whilst I am in a drug-induced craziness. Until such a time that I can coherently converse with you lovely peoples.

SO nothing too scandalous if you please. It's my mother who'll be reading them. Just sayin.


I feel like

Friday, February 3, 2012

Wind streaking across the open sky, through the bare tree limbs. Funneling between buildings and canyons, racing toward me, the ill-prepared student walking up to campus. 

 Not that walking up the hill presents its own problems for breathing well...the wind blew directly at my face taking my breath with it as it flew past me. Every part of my body whether exposed to the freezing elements or not, was numb within seconds of leaving my warmish abode.

"My tail's froze, and my nose is froze, and my ears are froze and my toes are froze."

Seriously felt like a little puppy trekking across frozen England

On the other hand the wind made me look even hotter than I usually do. 

If only I looked as good as her

Okay maybe not that great but pretty great...let's be honest.


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