Secret Sunday (late edition)

This weekend kind of got away from me. We were up North for a birthday party for my sister's boyfriend's mother, as well as visiting with my sister-in-law and her family (I'll be blogging about it soon). So here I am a day late.

Time for the thirty-third round of Secret Sunday, a chance to share secrets and/or fantasies you've been keeping to yourself. Some are uplifting, some are heartbreaking and some are just plain naughty.

All are valid.

Here's how it works:

1) This is open to anyone who wants to participate, from regular follower to casual visitor.

2) If this is something you'd like to run on your blog please feel free. You may copy the rules if you wish.

And now to it...

i am..

 
 
cocky      headstrong             open-minded         bold           introverted   
         
       outgoing            restless             philosophical      devilish

       passionate       aggressive        stubborn        impatient                         

 childlike             uncertain          relentless          therapeutic

hero-complex      daring            skeptical              fantasy              

trusting      loving           CURIOUS      non-judgemental

adventurous       flirtatious     mischievous     secrets   bold    

sexual              confident            conversation         vulnerable  

 Introspective   exploration        playful         content     

contradictory        


me

Secret Sunday

Hey everyone, time for round thirty-three of Secret Sunday, a chance to share secrets and/or fantasies you've been keeping to yourself. Some are uplifting, some are heartbreaking and some are just plain naughty.

All are valid.

Here's how it works:

1) This is open to anyone who wants to participate, from regular follower to casual visitor.

2) If this is something you'd like to run on your blog please feel free. You may copy the rules if you wish.

And now to it...

The Best Post I've Read in a While

 

                         "If you try to please everyone you'll end up pleasing no one."
                                                                                    ~ unknown


  I read something yesterday that reminded me of a draft I began working on then put off to the side. The post completely held my attention and has been endlessly reverberating through me for over a day, like a huge iron bell freshly struck. I decided I had to finish writing this and tell you about it because they both tie in so well.

  It was written by 'Missy' at "oh missy me.."  I first came across her, well, I don't know how long ago but it's easily been close to a year and a half. Her writing is down-to-Earth and unpretentious, as most of ours is, and always left me wanting more (although I don't usually comment I do drop by to see what's up). But as is too often the case she had also been holding back.

 I think at some point most of us feel restrained in what we can comfortably write when familiar eyes are upon us. People who don't blog usually don't seem to "get it". Why the need to write such personal things in public? Why air your dirty laundry for the world to see, aren't you embarrassed to write that? They don't realize how therapeutic blogging is. It goes so, so far beyond simply putting our thoughts and feelings down; if that were all there was to it we'd just keep a private diary or journal. For many of us though our blogs are our heart and soul laid bare, turned inside-out and in some cases ripped from our very core. We bleed words and make no apology for it because we know there are those who feel as we do and understand. There's empowerment, strength and healing in these shared experiences.

  Often those who "get us" the most are people we've never met and most likely never will. Why? Because we share no past history. They have no preconceived notion of who we were before we came along and so, there are no surprises. Still there's always something we feel we should hold back, maybe a tough time we went through in our lives that we can't share publicly with others because we'll drag loved ones into it with us. We'll never be able to express ourselves the way we want while those closest to us read our blog. I have friends and family I love dearly who may be reading this right now and what I've written is nothing personal it's just a fact, common amongst dozens of people I've met and dare I say thousands more I haven't. Yet.

  We'll also most likely never confide in our friends and family the way we do our closest blogging friends. I say this based on the countless times you, my dear readers, have said you share things with me that you wouldn't tell anyone else. I do the same. There's a certain comfort in having that computer screen between us and when we grow to trust someone over time it often feels safer than anything we might find in 'real life'. This may sound completely counter-intuitive but it's pretty much impossible to explain to those not involved.

  So back to Missy's post. I haven't featured another blogger lately and she doesn't know I'm writing this (she will soon enough!) but her post "oh eff it" was too delicious to keep from you guys, not so much because of its content specifically but its message. Here's a girl who grew balls (as she put it), found her voice and spoke out against those who would threaten to stifle her. It's a significant step in reclaiming independence and individuality and I couldn't have been any prouder of her as I read it.

  'Missy', I always enjoyed your writing. But yesterday...wow, yesterday. You totally blew the roof off this bitch and it was a beautiful thing to see. Respect.
                                                 _____________________

  While I'm at it I'd like to also give a shout-out to Charlotte at This Path of Lilly's.  She recently came out from behind her anonymous blog and has bravely pushed on while keeping all her original posts intact for all to see. I think that's pretty admirable.

  Plus she referenced my blog several times over the past week which in itself deserves a mention. Thanks Charlotte, it's a pleasure getting to know you!

Secret Sunday

Hey everyone, time for the thirty-second round of Secret Sunday, a chance to share secrets and/or fantasies you've been keeping to yourself. Some are uplifting, some are heartbreaking and some are just plain naughty.


All are valid.

Here's how it works:

1) This is open to anyone who wants to participate, from regular follower to casual visitor.

2) If this is something you'd like to run on your blog please feel free. You may copy the rules if you wish.

And now to it...

Footsteps (poem)

here

Footsteps



Lullabyes and midnight cries
Your tiny fingers wrapped in theirs,
Big eyes that see a perfect world
Free of fears and cares.

Playpens, cribs and plastic bibs
Mommy at your beckon call,
Constant service, daddy's nervous
Are they ready for it all?

First smile, first laugh, first words and steps
Crayons, books and blocks,
Pee-pee dance in training pants
Cupboards with child-proof locks.

Climbing trees and scraping knees
A world of endless wonder,
Ask mommy why the sky is blue
And what makes rain and thunder.

Soon grade-school books and awkward looks
Bring crushes, broken hearts and then,
A high school dance, chance for romance
And love finds you again.

Praying, hoping, back seat groping
Finally leaving home,
She wears your shirts, toothbrush on your sink,
A pillow next to your own.

Next years bring a wedding ring
And with a new heartbeat your family grows,
The love of your life about to give you another
More beautiful each day as she shows.

Find yourselves in a hospital room
Holding her hand, words loving and warm,
The pain and the tears fulfill a dream held for years
As this precious creation is born.

Lullabyes and midnight cries
Mommy at her beckon call,
Constant service and you're both nervous...

Are you ready for it all?

Great Day!

 

Today was a really good day. One of my favourite blogging friends blitzed my Facebook photos with all sorts of comments, which made my morning. A friend at work approached me to talk some more, she broke up with her boyfriend last week and wasn't looking for advice or my opinion this time, just a sounding board. I live for these conversations, they're important to me and fortunately she's doing really well. Then a work situation I had been stewing over for a couple weeks got resolved this afternoon, and I finished a poem that's been sitting unfinished in my drafts for months.

   Probably the best part is that two online friends of mine seem to have put aside their differences after having a falling-out. The three of us all know each other and it's been hard but I avoided getting involved in that situation. For a while it didn't seem they'd be able to reconcile but a serious event for one of them prompted them to make up. It's too bad it takes a serious situation for that to happen but sometimes that's how it goes.

  Anyway that's about it. It was a nice change from the stress and crappiness of Monday and Tuesday, and now we're heading into the weekend. Can't wait!

Secret Sunday

Hey everyone, time for the thirty-first round of Secret Sunday, a chance to share secrets and/or fantasies you've been keeping to yourself. Some are uplifting, some are heartbreaking and some are just plain naughty.

All are valid.

Here's how it works:

1) This is open to anyone who wants to participate, from regular follower to casual visitor.

2) I don't plan to censor content or language. However I do reserve the right not to post anything which appears to be submitted with the sole intent of offending. I also reserve the right to include submissions that may be considered controversial. It's a fine line sometimes.

3) I'd like everyone to please refrain from negatively commenting on what someone else has written; what may seem trivial to you can be very personal to someone else.

4) If this is something you'd like to run on your blog please feel free. You may copy the rules if you wish.

And now to it...

The Most Amazing Dream I've Ever Had

                                                            here


   When our eyelids are heavy and midnight's hush falls upon us, we never know what corners of our soul our mind will drift off to. I usually remember my dreams pretty vividly. Sometimes they're totally whacked-out (my dreams often take place in some alternate reality in which I'm the only constant and everything else is unfamiliar).  But often I'm able to read into some meaning behind them. A while ago I experienced what just might prove to be The Most Amazing Dream I've ever had.

   Follow along...

   I was in a house with some guy, we were either friends or roommates. (He's no one I know in real life). He had decided to end his life by taking handfuls of pills and for some reason was able to talk me into doing the same without much convincing. We were both very calm and matter-of-fact about the whole thing, there was no anxiety. I can promise you that I have no desire to do this and haven't had so much as even a passing thought about it. The only times I can remember feeling that low was in my late teens when I was out of school, out of work and completely unsure of what I wanted to do with my life. The other was when I was emotionally messed up after my car accident between 2008-2009.

  In my dream he must have had 8-10 different types of pills. I remember wondering what affect that combination would have, whether it would cause excruciating pain or if we'd just go to sleep. He took a bunch and swallowed, I put one or two in my mouth. I was in front of a stainless steel double kitchen sink about to swallow them when I looked out the window (I think it was either raining or overcast), and saw a beautiful girl between 18-22 outside the house looking back at me. She must have seen me take the pills. I decided then I wanted to live, leaned over the sink and let them fall from my mouth. She smiled as she looked at me and silently mouthed the words "Thank you", then walked off.

   Amazing.

   Now, most of you who know me are aware of how blogging helped me heal after my car accident and you may see the symbolism in all this.

   I believe the roommate in the dream is my past. The times I've felt despair, hopelessness, depression. Me at my weakest. My decision to give into taking the pills represents the uncertainty and doubt I felt that things would ever get better. The girl is highly symbolic. She's passion and hope, a break in the storm and represents the women in my life who inspired me to find that love for life within myself again. She's Sandy, who gave me space to feel what I felt without question and was always supportive. And she's many of you, who made me realize how much wonder I have yet to discover in life and how much I could feel towards others. She represents everything that pulled me through and in no small way, helped me keep it together.

  This moment probably endured a few seconds as it flashed through the neurons in my brain. But the memory of it may last a lifetime.

My 'Relaxing' Vacation

  

    While my American friends celebrated their country's independence today, the rest of us returned to work. This workday however, has been a day of rest for me compared to an extended weekend which proved to be somewhat of a marathon. Or a whirlwind. A marathon within a whirlwind.

   A dweam within a dweam? No, that was Princess Bride. Stay on topic.

   Right.

   Sandy was off all last week on one of her typical working vacations, spending every possible minute working in our gardens. (Okay who am I kidding. They're hers, I just get to stroll through them, smell the pretty things and lift the too-heavy stuff once in a while). I took Wednesday and Thursday off to work on our back deck, my second home as of late, finishing the sanding in preparation for staining. We stopped mid-afternoon Wednesday, cleaned up and drove an hour and a half outside town to watch my nephew graduate elementary school. The ceremony was long but pretty well done, every kid got involved and they threw in a slide show which was a bit long but entertaining. Was I really that young at their age? It seems a lifetime ago.

   Got home late.

   Thursday, sand the deck. Friday, sand the deck. Saturday, finish sanding the deck. Hey it's a pretty big structure (14' x 16') with railings and posts, so it takes a while. We stopped late Saturday, cleaned up and drove an hour outside town to visit my dad and his wife for their annual family barbeque. My sister, her kids and her boyfriend were there, my brother and his wife were there as well. We had a roast, corn-on-the-cob and potatoes which were all done on the barbeque. Caesar salad, shrimp cocktail and apple pie with whipped cream for dessert. And of course plenty of booze to wash it down. Luckily we were just finishing dinner when a nasty storm blew in. Some of us stayed out on the back deck to watch the show of wind and lightning. (God I love thunderstorms). We ended the night with a few rounds of pool.

   Got home late.

   Sunday morning I slept in until almost 9:00 (gee, lucky me). I awoke to a gorgeous clear sky, and after breakfast we sat out on the deck sipping Sandy's home-made latte. Afterwards it was back to work, where I gave the house a desperately-needed vacuuming. Is it sick I was looking forward to it? Then, back outside where Sandy and I both spent three hours applying the first coat of stain under a blazing sun. It seemed a bit of a waste at first having stripped off the old gray, weathered layer only to stain the wood gray again. But I have to admit the deck is looking great so far. Photos to come.

   Late Sunday afternoon we cleaned up. The neighbours a few doors down invited us over so we sat by the pool (didn't swim this time), shared some drinks and watermelon. I played with their dog, a very affectionate if rambunctious Doberman.

   It was a busy several days but overall a very enjoyable time. This coming Saturday we're driving an hour and a half out of town to visit my mom and her husband for their annual family barbeque. And where do you suppose we'll be on Sunday?

   Yup, working on the deck. (Edit: for those of you who have been asking, yes Sandy and I designed and built it ourselves).

Secret Sunday

Hey everyone, hope you've had a great weekend.  Time for the thirtieth round of Secret Sunday, a chance to share secrets and/or fantasies you've been keeping to yourself. Some are uplifting, some are heartbreaking and some are just plain naughty.

All are valid.

This is open to anyone who wants to participate, whether a regular follower or casual visitor. You can participate anonymously. If this is something you'd like to run on your blog please feel free to copy the rules.

And now to it...

On Paper Wings

One day perhaps
I’ll write all my secrets down
On sepia paper,
Fold them into an airplane
And set them free off the coast of Spain.
Or France.
No who am I kidding,
It would have to be Australia.

Always Australia.

My hopes, dreams and fears
Would be carried
Upon these fragile wings
Every crease a soul I’ve met,
Some buried deeper within the page
Than others.
To whomever finds it,
You’ll be in there somewhere.

Maybe I’ll write
All these secrets as a song
With no particular melody,
Just verse.
And if by chance
This song
Finds its way to you
Unfold it carefully
And sing me.

The Scar Project- In The Shape of a Heart

  My second submission is from Heather H. at Gypsy Bitsy (thanks Heather!). During a conversation we had last month she mentioned a scar she's had for a few years, which has healed in the shape of a heart (the point is to the left and up a little in the photo). I like the sybolism of it. Here's her story..


 "The incense stick was labeled 'Rain'. It smelled like wet pavement and pine trees, a thick aroma wafting through my bedroom. It wasn't supposed to be burning. It wasn't even supposed to be in the house. My parents' house.
  
  No fire allowed behind closed doors, period. Father was adamant I'd burn the house down 'one of these days' with my collection of candles and incense--or I'll set off the smoke alarm, wake him up, can't I just knock it off?

  No.

  I can't. I'm Seventeen. Hurtling like a star through an uncertain sky, burning bright with every emotion on the spectrum. So many colors at once that the world turns white--the tip of the incense stick touches my skin, the pain is there, but I only feel gravity. Relief. Release. A small amount of blood, the tissue turning to gum, and when I'm done, I know this won't be the end.

   I've been cutting since middle school. This is my forth or fifth burn. The first in a prominent spot. Why should I cover it?--pretend to be fine?

   I've set off an alarm. The bells are ringing, loud, but not so clear. "What happened?"


  Father will insist I "see someone about that". He cannot say what exactly, will not specify. He will not look at it, will not look at me, for months. But I will see someone. A counselor. She will ask, "how did that make you feel". And I will say something snide. Flip my hair. I will not remember anything about those sessions except for the square of her office, the dead roses she kept in a vase, her Nordstrom Rack shoes with the barcode still on the bottom.

  I see this woman as an obstacle to my freedom. Father says that if I see her once a week, I can see the boy that I'm in love with. After three months, this boy will ask me "what happened". He will be the first to love me, the first to give me permission to love myself, and he will kiss my scar as it's healing, and he will tell me "please don't hurt yourself anymore, you don't see it, but you're hurting me, too".

  It's been about six years since the last time I hurt myself, but I still have the scars. This scar, the burn on my wrist, is something people see every day. Some people ask what it's from. Some people assume. But I rarely answer directly. I say, "oh, I burned myself a long time ago," and then I say, "but look how cool it is, it's healed into a heart".

   This is a symbol of hope, a physical reminder that as resilient as the body is the soul is even more so.

  Our scars are our stories, and our stories are what we make them."


I'm still looking for more submissions so if you have a scar and want to share your story please contact me.

Secret Sunday

Hey everyone, time for the twenty-ninth round of Secret Sunday, a chance to share secrets and/or fantasies you've been keeping to yourself. Some are uplifting, some are heartbreaking and some are just plain naughty.

All are valid.

This is open to anyone who wants to participate, from regular follower to casual visitor. You can participate anonymously. If this is something you'd like to run on your blog please feel free to copy the rules.

What's your deepest secret?...

Just One of Those Things...

  Y’know those moments where something seems so funny you laugh until you cry and just can’t stop? Then when you finally compose yourself you happen to think of it and totally lose it all over? That was today.


  One of the girls at work said she was going to see a play, which started this conversation..

Girl #1: “I’m going to see Richard the Third.”
Girl #2: “Do you have an appointment?”
     Me: “Yeah, he’s probably busy.”

  This sent Girl #2 and I into hysterics to the point of crying. Girl #1 just kinda looked at us all funny then started to crack up too.

  Fast forward to dinner tonight.

  I tell Sandy the story and lose it again. She‘s looking at me like I‘m possessed, I go through about four tissues to dry my eyes before once more gaining control. Then this happens..

Sandy: “I suppose King Lear was out of the question.”
     Me: “He was unavailable.”

  What followed was another ten minutes of my life I’ll never get back. You had to be there, but damn was it funny!

  My head hurts.

A Greater Understanding- Depression

                                   personal LoveReminder

 

   I began my "Greater Understanding" series as a way of addressing life's heavier subjects through the words of those who have lived them. I think it's important to talk about these issues, getting them out in the open will hopefully help dissolve some of the mystery and stigma surrounding them. Acknowledgement and understanding are I believe the first steps towards healing.

 Today's post on depression was written by Heather H. from Gypsy Bitsy. Heather and I have recently become friends and she's challenged my thinking on things I thought I had all the answers to. It's been interesting to say the least.

  In her words...    


  "When a person is born with a physical disability—a shortened leg, or only one lung—the world would never expect that person to ‘just get over it’. When a person has a disability, they learn how to use their bodies—make the most of their physical experience—they learn to navigate the world differently and perhaps more preciously because of their disability.
  In many ways Depression is a disability. One popular drug company’s commercial asks: Where does Depression hurt?
  The answer is: Everywhere.
  When I was seventeen I was diagnosed with Chronic Depression.
  And unfortunately, I wasn’t prescribed ‘chronic’ for my Depression. The doctor put me on Zoloft. A drug that—five years later—was prescribed to my friend Carly and is likely to have caused the volatile moodswing that resulted in her suicide.
  When I was on Zoloft my brain was only working at half-speed. And for someone like me, whose personality is largely based on mental prowess, it was HIGHLY disturbing. My usual bright banter and sarcastic quips slowed down to a crawl. I felt like a tennis player standing around at the Wimbledon, no longer sure what the racket is for.
  FUCK THIS SHIT.
  I wrote it in all caps across the spine of my binder. Threw away the Zoloft. & woke up my brain, let’s get out of here.
  If people can run marathons with metal legs, and swim with no arms, surely—I thought—Depression shouldn’t be that hard to deal with.
  But the thing about Depression is that it’s a Tricky, GREEDY, Bastard. Those who are affected by Depression understand that statement.
  Depression wants it all.
  Body.
  Mind.
  Spirit.
  Heart.
  Depression can make us fat, or emaciate us. It can make us crazy. It can break the spirit, break the heart.
  Depression makes us selfish, because when anyone is in an excruciating amount of pain they are not willing or able to help anyone else.
  But mostly, Depression makes us liars.
  We buy into the propaganda in our heads. We start believing we’re worthless, or that the world is an ugly place, we believe that other people will never love or understand us because of our disability. We believe those things so much, that we might even share those lies with other people.
  So how do you ‘get over it’?
  If you’re like me, with Chronic Depression, or Major Depression, or have a Mood Disorder, here’s step one: Go find a mirror, look at yourself, and tell yourself that it’s okay.
  Telling yourself that it’s okay is the first step, because no healing can take place without acceptance.
  Whenever your Depression crops up acknowledge it straight away. Remember, it’s a tricky greedy bastard, it will only get louder if it’s ignored. So look at that M-Eff-er, and say: Hey, Asshole, I’ve got a life to lead, and goals to make, and I don’t need to carry around your sixty pounds of bullshit and lies everywhere I go because I know better than what you’re telling me.
  Take back control from the voices in your head.
  Tell yourself whatever you need to hear. Tell yourself the Truth.
  Get past your pride and start asking for what you need from other people in your life. If you need to be told you’re loved more often, ask more often. If you need a hug, ask for one. Don’t stare at your phone waiting for people to call you, call them. The more you put yourself out there, the more people will reciprocate.
  Stop crouching your spirit under your Depression label. Say ‘I experience Depression’, rather than, ‘I am Depressed’. ‘Depressed’ is not my name. I am Heather. You are you. Make that distinction clear to yourself.
  Staving off Depression is a constant battle.
  Do not be seduced by the Enemy. Don’t dress it up in fancy black clothes and feed it comfort food, or play its favorite sad music, NEVER let it get you alone. It won’t hesitate. As soon as you’re weak enough, comfortable enough with this lethargy, Depression will take you to the darkest corner of your mind and convince you end your own life.
  It’s a lie.
  Write the truth: I [Name Here] am loved. I am capable of living a meaningful, successful, life. I matter. My life matters. There are things I enjoy: [make list]. People I love: [make list] And things I still want to experience: [make list].
  Keep these lists close to you. In your wallet is a great place. Especially if Depression comes hunting you at the mall or at a party in a room full of people.
  Lastly, there are many good Anti-Depressant medications that have been very helpful tools in fighting Depression. However, because Depression is a tricky greedy bastard, it’s not always satisfied by having the chemical balance restored in the body, it’s already shaped the way the thought process in the brain works—and so it’s important to also have a Cognitive Behavioral Therapist to talk to if you’re on medication.
  Suicide risk increases with many Anti-Depressants.
 
To Review:


1. Tell yourself that it’s okay. Depression is a type of disability, but you are not Abnormal.


2. Recognize that Depression is a tricky greedy bastard. Catch that guy at the door, block his entrance. Throw down like in Macaulay Culkin in HomeAlone.


3. Retrain the ‘Voice in Your Head’ to sound more like your best friend. Your inner voice should be kind, supportive, inquisitive, patient, like your best friend would be. (If your best friend is as much of an asshole to you as the Voice of Depression, get rid of him/her immediately)


4. Start asking for what you need. Don’t assume that people know your needs and are withholding. Like John Mayer said, “if you want more love, why don’t you say so?” It’s a rhetorical question.


5. Understand the difference between who you are, and what Depression is.


6. Depression is the enemy. Address its body of lies. Make it real. Then, kick it in the groin.


7. Write your Truths, to dismantle Depression’s lies. “Actually, I am pretty.” “People do love me, here are their names”


8. TALK TO A PROFESSIONAL, especially if you’re on medication. Friends are wonderful resources, so is family, but they are not mental health professionals, and even if they are it’s good to have someone who is an unbiased safe-zone.

Good luck, Warriors. & remember, I’m on the battlefield with you everyday. & so are millions of others. You are not alone.You are loved."


  Heather, thanks for taking the time to contribute. I'm thankful you were able to fight back and not let this consume you. It would be a shame if we never met.

Secret Sunday

Hey everyone, I hope your weekend was as good as mine! Time for the twenty-eighth round of Secret Sunday, a chance to share secrets and/or fantasies you've been keeping to yourself. Some are uplifting, some are heartbreaking and some are just plain naughty.

All are valid.

This is open to anyone who wants to participate, from regular follower to casual visitor. You can participate anonymously. If this is something you'd like to run on your blog please feel free to copy the rules.

And now to it...

The Scar Project- First Submission

  Most of us have scars from something, self-inflicted or otherwise. Some have a great story behind them, others are painful reminders of things we'd rather forget. But all are part of the journey of our lives. I'd like to feature yours on my blog; if you're interested in participating please check here for details. I'm in no way trying to romanticize or glamorize the wounds life gives us.  My hope is that sharing them might help raise awareness in some of what others have gone through.

  My first submission comes from Fenella, though it's a bit long it was an interesting read. In her words...

  "I had a benign tumour, called a Focal Nodular Hyperplasia on my liver. It measured 10 x 9 x 9 cms or thereabouts. Anyway, it's my favourite scar, it has such a long story behind it. Oh and feel free to use my name, I'm proud of what I went through!"

August 27, 2010

   "I was awoken around 5.45am to prepare for surgery. I was met by a lovely smelling nurse and the anaesthetist, who proceeded to try to find my horrid veins. In the mean time the nurse packed me under a blanket that had warm air pumped into it, it was very cosy indeed. Next thing I was aware of was them telling me that I would begin to feel tired and I was out like a light.

   "Fast forward through all the surgery bits, coz I have no idea what they did! I woke up in my room, or at least that's the first memory I have. I was in a single room, hooked up to oxygen via a facial mask. I later discovered I had a drain in my stomach, coming from my liver, a catheter so I didn't have to get up to wee and a central line straight into my neck to administer IV drugs and to easily take bloods. I also had a PCA – a Patient Controlled Analgesic device. This contained morphine and I could press a little button and administer it to myself as required. I had a drip line feeding me ketamine too, this is a common analgesia used after surgeries (as well as an illegal party drug). I was fairly comfortable, though I did ask for a nose prong oxygen mask rather than the facial mask. The only weird thing for me was the anaesthetic drugs had wonked my eyes, I couldn't focus any further than a couple of feet in front of me.

   "Of course a lot of my memory of this time is really broken, but I do remember the first night having a bad reaction to the ketamine they were giving me. I'd started feeling uneasy and unsettled and it escalated into me feeling terrified and really unwell and unhappy. They took me off it immediately and within 20 mins I started to feel a lot calmer and happier.

   "On my 4th day of admission I was told that I could go home. When I woke up the next day I was feeling ok, refreshed but still like a complete space cadet. Then everything went pear shaped! By mid afternoon I was in a huge amount of pain and it was escalating. By late afternoon I was pacing the house, crying, moaning and wondering where the heck it had all gone wrong.

   "I knew I had to get back to the hospital, so my friend who is now an absolute angel in my eyes, picked me up and we met my Dad at the hospital. I was suffering more than I ever had, more than the very first few hours out of surgery and I knew things weren't right. Within 20 mins I was in an E.R. bed. Things moved slowly that night, but I was given lots more pain relief and felt a lot happier. I spent about 24 hours in the E.R, most of those waiting for a bed to become available up on my old ward. Eventually I was given some disgusting contrast liquid that supposedly tasted like aniseed. I had to drink that and then wait for my CT scan that had been booked in. I had my CT scan done, they injected a different contrast into me and I was taken back up to my E.R. bed. By 7pm I got the word that I was to move back up to my old ward. To say I was happy was an understatement. Eventually I was wheeled up on a wheelchair and settled into my new bed on 7 East. I felt like I'd come home and immediately relaxed into my new environment. I then spent another 4 days on 7 East.

   "I had plenty of visitors in my time in hospital which was great. I must say the nurses I had were by far the best I've ever had. Always smiling and nothing was too much for them. I developed quite a healthy crush on one of them, a gorgeous red head who was chirpy and ever so sexy. I got to spend quite a bit of time with her, so that made my days entirely sunnier. She was the one who removed my staples, well some of them. She had a student nurse with her and after she'd removed a few I asked the student nurse if she wanted to remove the rest. She was excited to be given the task. Thankfully it was a painless procedure and after a few minutes all 30 staples had been removed.

   "The next day I was given the all clear to head home, after 10 accumulated days in hospital. In hindsight, they never should've sent me home after 4 days. It was far too soon and I'm not surprised I ended up back in hospital. But I'm very happy with everything else that happened. I've got a nice clean scar that is healing really well. During my first visit home, I entirely felt that the surgery had been a big mistake and I was wishing that I'd never had it done. But now that I'm feeling better and am far more relaxed, I realise that it really was worth it."

after surgery

ten months later

Thanks for this Fen, it means a lot to me! I've enjoyed getting to know you.

Our Anniversary Dinner

  
Last night Sandy and I went out for dinner at The Keg to celebrate our 14th wedding anniversary. (Some of you in the US may be familiar with The Keg, for anyone else who isn't it's a steakhouse restaurant). Here’s our evening…

   Since we're without reservations there's a twenty to thirty minute wait, which we happily spend on the outdoor patio. We're seated in front of a big glass wall with a cascading water feature, which obscures the busy road behind it. Nice touch. I'm driving tonight and don't plan to drink until dinner so I ask for a glass of ice water. Sandy orders a Miami Haze (Polar Ice vodka, peach schnapps, mango, orange and pineapple juice with a splash of cranberry cocktail), which she thoroughly enjoys. She seems somewhat charmed by the cuteness of our blonde server but I, of course, am oblivious to it all. (at least for the purposes of this post). During the conversation I quickly calculate that at twenty years old our talkative waitress would have been one when Sandy and I first met.  At this moment I hate math more than ever.

   After a short time our table is called. Being of typically modern, contemporary decor the restaurant is dimly lit. We take our seats and as we peruse the menu I ask our server for some candles. Not so much to set the stage for romance as to cast some light, since neither of us have our reading glasses and can barely read the menu. Kill me now.

   A basket of piping hot sourdough bread with churned butter is brought to our table. Sandy orders an Argentinian malbec to drink paired with a prime rib steak, twice-baked potatoes and sauteed mushrooms. I'm having an Oscar sirloin (topped with shrimp, scallops and asparagus tips in a Bernaise sauce) with a side of rice pilaf and Rosemont Estates shiraz to wash it down. God I love Australian reds.

   We chat as we wait for dinner. Sandy looks great, this girl knows how to dress. Our meal arrives and it's delicious, they never disappoint at this restaurant. I’m warned that the horseradish has a potent kick but decide to attack it anyway, and it fights back. My sinuses are flooded with a prickly sensation that rattles around in my brain before escaping out my ears; it’s the culinary equivalent of Steve Carell in The Forty-Year-Old Virgin getting his chest waxed. With each bite I utter a stream of silent expletives, until seconds later the flavour settles upon my palette. It’s a deliciously twisted game.

   Dessert time. Sandy’s weapon of choice is a B-52 coffee with a bowl of French Vanilla ice cream.  Quite decadent. I order warm apple crumble topped with vanilla ice cream and a tea. We end dinner with a toast of complimentary champagne before heading home, where we have an enthusiastic romp between the sheets before drifting blissfully off to sleep.



The End.


(Actually there's no romping, we're too stuffed to do anything. With heads on our pillows, the night ends with whispers of days to come, each bringing us closer than the last. What more could one ask for?)

PS: For the benefit of some of you who are wondering, here's what Sandy wore. I love this outfit:

Secret Sunday

All I want

To know of you

Is everything.