Underwear would have been a good idea today, just ‘cause. I still maintain my uncomfortable-thigh-band-underwear issue, but I suppose that’s for another argument. I digress.
The day began earlier than usual because past 7:15 I had to fast, so I got up a little earlier to fully enjoy my morning routine. I was hurting for the get-go, which wasn’t good. Another word of advice: pain meds and an empty stomach are not a terrific combo. I just wanted to sleep. At my site, the kids were in testing before a day of early release, so instead of working with them, I studied the trauma therapy from the workshop.
Then – I headed down. I floated through everything – I’m healthy, so intake was a snap, then I undressed <they gave me a NEW pair of “back socks” (as I like to call them)>. The gown was a little confusing, but I reveled in my naked-as-a-jaybird attitude and imagined I was on a photo shoot. Naked and proud, baby. When I was finally wheeled into the “operating room” it was scary as hell, but only because of my brain. I looked at my mala beads, my chakra wrist tattoo and all the cutting scars on my arm from my difficult years as a teen and focused on my breathing. Within minutes it was over. I felt a warm ribbo
n of liquid traveling inside my leg as the cortisone began its work. And that was that it. I walked out – no baby or anything. Weird.
I sat in my car for about 20 minutes, drinking water, eating my lunch, and watching things around me. I COULD have gone back to work – but as I remembered on the way there, there was no work to be done. Kids got out early today after their testing, so I headed home after all. Within minutes, I was in bed and somehow I fell asleep (which proves something, just not sure what).
I picked up The Boy from a friend’s house, the girl is home from her dad’s. A fire is dying in the wood stove, even though it’s not very cold outside and I spent some precious time communicated with someone that I wish lived much closer. There’s a lot going on in this head of mine tonight. I need to put her to bed before she starts thinking crazy shit, but I know this: things are about to get gooder.
Pictures: The Super Moon saying “Good Morning” after her nightly escapade; My lucky epidural socks. to joining my lucky MRI socks. Lucky surgery socks would close the trifecta
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