Before the wind

When you have an injury, there is sometimes going to be some fetishistic element, in this case it's not my own, it's the people I've encountered. One gal, whom I know from a cafe I frequent, asked me if anyone has tried to poke or push the my enormous bruises on my leg.
First, we just uncovered them a couple of days ago so I still haven't actually looked at them close up because just what I've seen from a glance tells me I don't want any more of a detailed view then I have from the distance between my head and my knee. Second, what the fuck, why would anyone want to poke my anything let alone a surgery, okay maybe someone from 7th grade, but I don't know anyone that age so I'm not too worried.
I rode in Jake's car today, his rusty, tiny old Honda in order to get out of the house briefly. I sat with my purse on my lap, frequently touching the nonexistent brake pedal with my good foot and lamented that I was such a freak, knew it but was helpless in the face of driving with a 19 year old who is keen on looking at people when he talks to them, hence my quiet demeanor for the duration of the ride. We had a conversation about anxiety and how from my perspective it's generational and you can never really know the source except that we, like all the animals have fears that need to be reconciled and kept in check, at least until someone gives us a new one.

I have to turn my head

And we're back...

That was fun. I have to say surgery now and when I had it the last time are quite the different balls of wax. Previous, anesthesia had me struggling against unconsciousness and then later coming to was like a fight from the depths. Now, I had time for one joke, got the surgical staff laugh and I was out.
Elana the recovery room nurse, had the kind of voice that guarantees everything went well, and was going to be alright, she soothed me back to a place of graham crackers and juice and I soaked it up like a third grader.
Now recovery, that has had it's moments. One of which had me up late at night on my crutches trying to get away from the pain by thrashing up and down the hallway crying and trying to figure out a way to remove the problem. Logic and pills finally took hold and thankfully those moments and that degree of "extreme discomfort" have not returned.
For the next week, I get to study how people ignore or are inconvenienced by the lack of mobility and of course how it seems all of a sudden everyone and then some are walking with a cane or on crutches to the beat of a very uneven drum.

That was so real

So, just to help out because together their ages equal 160, my parents are coming here for my recuperation. What I think will happen, is that I will have to recover with extreme speed to enable me to be mobile enough to get out of the house. And that is a fabulous way to manage a surgery, in fact, maybe they can start a business, even in this economy I forsee them doing quite well.
I will save you dear readers from the agony of a play by play of my "scope" but I suspect there will be much to tell as I spelunk the world of Orthopedics. So far I had to go for an exam with somewhat robotic nurses and technicians; and it's always reassuring for those of us with trust issues to have people who are staring past you as they tell you what might happen if you go into cardiac arrest under anesthesia.

Then I don't feel

I'm only going to have a few more posts BS (before surgery) so, I'll try to make them mildly entertaining even though life right now is far from that. Not to be cryptic but the sky is falling and that my friends is a fact
.Jack and I went to an Oktoberfest, with some hesitation due to our last Teutonic tinged experience. The draw for us this time was the Dachshund races that were slated for six pm.We arrived an hour early in order to eat and walk around and after I paid, I asked where the festivities would be held and was told they were over and I should have known they were going to have them early because they had been announcing it all day. Let me set the scene for this "festival of October" There are food booths and beer booths, and a sprinkling of Lederhosen vendors. My thought was why would anyone come to this for hours and providentially find out the competition of weiner dogs had been rescheduled? Because I had no answer, I have to assume that the only people who really would know that, were in fact the participants. So with the cavalcade of clothed dogs leaving the fairgrounds, Jack and I walked amongst the well fed drunk people and yet again felt that not quite right thing that kind of creeps in, and left a little disappointed but full of schnitzel.

Even as we gaze

When I got to work today I on one of our book displays I found two cards with just; TrueWorldHistory.info on them. So of course I went to the sight because I assumed it would be slanted towards Jews and the banks. Well, it's not overt but it's there. Mainly as with a lot of the 9/11 conspirators and off the beaten track ideologists, there is a tendency to hearken back to how the entire world is run by Jews and we pull the strings, did I say we, I meant to say they because I can't even control three teenagers, let alone world economies.
When I was little there was a white power phone number that used to make the rounds, it was horrifyingly entertaining to call and listen to the recording of the most angry man in the world spitting into the phone about blacks and Jews ruining everything for the white race.
I digress; Yesterday Gus got his drivers license and one thing we had been discussing was his interest in being an organ donor. I had explained to him that to my knowledge Judaism says that you can't do anything to the body after death, but it is also required that if you can help to save a life at any time, it must be done. So, philosophically speaking it's an ok thing to do. Here we go, messing things up yet again