And by saddle I mean cast/crutches/self-pity for the next few weeks.
(this is going to be a blog post about my feet, just fyi (and what I say when i'm on drugs)...so you don't have to read it. but you should. also this is being written just a few minutes after taking percocet. nbd.)
Thats right, this is the first blog of a new girl. The first blog from a bunionless Cindy. I've never been bunionless before. I haven't been sure how I should approach the new me...do I embrace it or try to hold on to what I've known my whole life? I fear I can't do that, though, because I am new. Reborn, as it were.
This picture doesn't do the right foot justice in its rebirth. On my right foot (from henceforth known as Paul Bunyon), my big toe and second toe are now not permanently touching (as one can see on the left foot (Babe the Blue Ox)). My toe is significantly straighter and I get a sweet scar to show for it! I'm so lucky.
As of yesterday, Babe the Blue Ox has joined Paul in a land of joy and acceptance. You can't see it, because its in a giant cast, but I know its awesome.
My good brother was there to wait for me to get my surgery done and to take me home and be my caretaker. Another reason I'm 87 years old-I need a caretaker. Anyways. he's great. I guess the lady thought he was my husband and then when she found out he was my brother she felt awkward. Sucker. No but she really was nice so I won't call her that.
This is Aaron learning Nepali in his spare time. Because who doesn't do that? He is pretty smart and already understands a lot of it. And he's in the Mechanical Engineering program so lets just say he has a lot of awesome Nepali friends.
Aaron was able to describe my waking up process quite thoroughly yesterday, and so I thought I'd share a few gems that he said I said. I only wish this had been recorded, and then I could have become a youtube sensation. My surgery did happen on a Friday, Friday. I totally got down on Friday.
So the pulse reader on my finger I guess had fallen off and at one point I asked Aaron what my heart rate was. It was 34 (almost dying) so I guess I started yelling out "Je mort! Je MORT" (which, translated, means 'i'm dying!!!'). Then I guess I yelled out I was dying in English. At this point Aaron said the nurse lady looked up from her desk and he quickly assured her that I was not, in fact, dying. Then I kept speaking in French. And then I guess I started speaking in Korean. Which is funny because my vocabulary is quite limited in that language. I so wish I knew what I was saying.
And then I am freezing. I am seriously cold (i do remember this). So I complain about how cold I am. So they bring me this crazy heated bubble blanket-its made out of thin plastic. They put it on me and then I got mad, saying "HOW IS THIS GOING TO KEEP ME WARM?!" and kicked it to my feet. After all, it is some very thin plastic. They quickly put it back on me and then hooked it up to some machine that inflated it with warm air and that was quite delightful.
So delightful that I then said, "I wanna take this blanket home and make sweet love to it".
Yes, apparently I am the same person on drugs and off drugs. Its how I do!
One bonus to being a gimp again?
Also, please come visit me.