Blue-Footed Musings

On February 24th I had surgery to remove my gall bladder. The weeks leading up to it were not the cheeriest. Not only did I have the surgery looming, but I had to stick to a ridiculously low-fat diet to avoid more gall bladder attacks. I was trying to keep my meals to 5 grams of fat or less. To give you an idea of how difficult that is, consider that most sliced bread has a couple grams of fat per slice. An egg has 5 grams of fat. Ground turkey, the leanest of lean meat, has 8+ grams of fat per serving. Even vegetarian food was sometimes problematic. Many recipes start with two tablespoons of olive oil, which together contain nearly 30 grams of fat. And, as I discovered, even beans have fat in them.

So I was perpetually hungry. I was grouchy. And I was plagued by the idea that I had reached the end of my natural life. Science would save me, but then I would be living on borrowed time. If that idea had lit a fire under my ass and forced me to get moving on some of my life’s goals, then it could have been beneficial. But simply dwelling on the thought did me no good.

I have since tried to change my thinking about the surgery. I am looking at it as a tax that I had to pay to continue with life as usual. I’m used to paying taxes. They’re a nuisance, but they’re a normal part of life. You pay them and you move on.

As for the surgery itself, it went well. The admitting process was so quick that I had no time to fret. Before I knew it, I was in a bed and had sedative dripping into my IV. I barely had time to say good-bye to my husband before they wheeled me into the OR. My last memories are of faceless people arranging my arms and throwing blankets over me, and of a mask being placed near my face.

When I woke up, I felt horrible. Such a pain I had in my abdomen. The nurse gave me Tylenol, but it did nothing. Then she gave me Dilaudid, for which I am eternally grateful. That kept me pain-free for the entire afternoon and most of the evening, allowing me to get through all the obstacles that lay between the hospital and my comfy bed at home.

Sadly, though, the Dilaudid spoiled me. The combination of Advil and Vicodin that was prescribed to me wasn’t even enough to kill the headache that I got (most likely) from reading too much while I recuperated. I thought wistfully of the Dilaudid many times over the next few days.

But the pain didn’t last long. By the end of the week, I was pretty much back to normal. Now, nearly two weeks later, my incisions are almost healed and I’m feeling fine. I haven’t taken any pain meds in a couple of days. I almost returned to work a few days early, but the idea of sitting at my desk, compressing my abdomen for long hours, did not appeal. Monday will be soon enough.

Now I just have to hope that my body can adjust to the lack of a gall bladder. Most people are able to return to their former diets with ease. I am sincerely hoping to be part of the majority in this case!

Livia got some adorable tutus for Christmas. Of course she managed to get one of them terribly dirty almost immediately. The care label said that it needed to be hand-washed. Uh-oh! I don’t do hand-washing.

“Well,” I said to my husband. “If it can be hand-washed, it can be machine-washed.” He gave me a sort of confused look and said, “Isn’t it the other way around?” Yes. Certainly, if you can machine-wash something, you can hand-wash it, though why anyone would want to do that if they had a washing machine handy, I do not know. But what I meant is that “hand-wash only” can be interpreted to mean “you can get this wet and use detergent on it, but it’s delicate, so be careful.” So I take delicate, hand-wash items and turn them inside-out, put them in a mesh bag or (if very small) in a sock, and wash them on the gentle cycle. Then I hang them up to dry.

This works perfectly about 90% of the time. The other 10% of items come out of the washer looking a little worn. But I have never totally destroyed anything by putting it in the washer. So I say there’s no such thing as “hand-wash only.”

P.S. I have washed Livia’s tutus several times since and they still look brand-new.

Quote by Louis L’Amour—

The trail is the thing, not the end of the trail. Travel too fast, and you miss all you are traveling for.

My husband walked into the mud room as I was putting towels into the washing machine. He said, “Oh, laundry day?”

Where has he been living for the last 4.5 years that he doesn’t know that every day is laundry day?

The House of the Scorpion by Nancy Farmer, A (Kindle version)

This is a well-written dystopian story about a boy named Matt who grows up on the estate of a drug lord in the fictional land of Opium, a country located between Mexico and the U.S. Matt is the drug lord’s clone, a fact that makes him an outcast to almost everyone except the cook (who raised him) and his temporary bodyguard. The truth about the country, with its clones, eejits (people whose brains have been partially destroyed so that they are easily controlled) and poppy fields, is slowly and sometimes painfully revealed. Some of it might seem like familiar territory to fans of sci-fi, but it is nonetheless an engrossing read. Recommended.

The Princess Diaries, Vol. II: Princess in the Spotlight by Meg Cabot, A

Princess Mia is at it again, and she’s even funnier this time around. Recommended.

The Racketty-Packetty House by Frances Hodgson Burnett, B+ (Kindle version)

This is a story about dolls and enjoying life to the fullest, but it was just a little too short and too cutesy to really win me over.

Return to Gone-Away by Elizabeth Enright, A

This book is a sequel to Gone-Away Lake. Portia’s parents have decided to buy an old, abandoned house that she and her friends found in the preceding book. Much of the story revolves around the discoveries they make as they explore and clean up the house. Anyone interested in treasure-hunting and/or idyllic childhoods is likely to find this book enjoyable. Recommended.

Swan by Katherine Hole, B- (Kindle version)

Swan is a story about an overweight woman who is obsessed with a movie star. She has a low-paying job and no social life. She does nothing to improve her life except spend herself into debt to buy an updated wardrobe. Then she gets everything she’s ever dreamed of handed to her on a silver platter. The only reason I didn’t give the book a lower grade is that I’m a sucker for happy endings. Not recommended.