So it has been a gazillion years since I posted, or about a month give or take. I wasn't pouting about the universe this time. Honest. (What?!? I wasn't. You don't know. Shut up.) Instead the Universe decided I wasn't behaving very well and gave me a time out. A time out in the shape of a small arterial tear and a five day hospital stay. Would have been a two day stay but of course it had to happen over a holiday weekend so it took like, omg, FOREVER to get a few tests done and finally get sent home. And get a million lectures on stress and then told not to do yoga for a month. Cause the Universe REALLY likes irony. sigh. Which left totally me behind on all the elephant poo cleaning duties that running the circus here seems to entail and I am only catching up with myself. At least Feisty Pants told me she felt bad for me after she was done laughing and pointing at me in the hospital gown and iv.
Well, whatcha gonna do? At least I think I have a few ideas for posts. First up, what the hell is wrong with hospitals' attitudes towards adults and sleep?!? I mean c'mon guys. You KNOW -because you've done the damn studies, how important sleep is to healing and yet you run adult wards like fraternities. I had three different roommates- every single one was older (read that as retired and seeming to not care about sleep and hard of hearing) and watched serial killer dramas all effing night long. I have a fourteen year old disabled daughter (read that as very vulnerable). I don't relish listening to various teen girls being kidnapped, chained up, and begging/screaming until rescued by the protagonist for hours at a time. I averaged two hours sleep a night. And then some medico would come in and give me a lecture on burn out and stress. REALLY? Back when dinosaurs roamed the earth and I was a teen, I had a mohawk and a rebellious love for British punk and surf punk. Next hospital stay that keeps me awake to the sound of some poor teen actress begging for help is gonna end in Johnny Rotten screaming about anarchy in the Uk or Jello Biafra telling us what he is too drunk to do. I might even get bored and break out some Rammstein. If I ain't sleeping, we WILL be having a mosh pit by the nurses station. Don't you dare say an effing word, because the one time I asked for the noise level to be lowered (the tv was on FULL volume and the patient was snoring) the nurse said she was uncomfortable doing so. So obviously sleep is NOT a priority in your establishment. If I gotta stay up, I am gonna enjoy myself. You don't want to stress me out do you?
Anywhooo, I have been home long enough to finally catch up with myself. Just in time for ice dams on my roof to cause all my gutters to fall off, and just in time for the car to need inspecting. Just in time for a trip to Philly to follow up with FP's orthopedic surgeon. Just in time for the next procedure Feisty Pants does not want to have. (Botox for spasticity) Just in time for a dance we are not allowed to take Feisty Pants to. ("NO NO NO, you 'barassing!") In other words, I am finally home where I can be comfortable and happy and have the life I damn well chose (you know, the stressful part) as opposed to being bored, cranky, tired, and tortuously sleep deprived (the "rest" they thought I needed) Spider Robinson was right. God is an iron.
