Surgery, Round Four

I've been complaining for weeks about not hearing from Dr. Kronowitz to set a surgery date. Yesterday, Brenda left a message on the machine requesting that I call her to discuss Dr. K's schedule. I was immediately plunged into depression.

I don't have to do this. I could allow the necrotic tissue to remain. Dr. Kronowitz suggested doing some scar revision on the tummy tuck. He said the scars might come back, though, and it will definitely be painful. I tried to think clearly about it last night, to determine whether I'd be sorry if I didn't do either one.

The brain was already hunkered down, trying to steel the body for the coming onslaught. I'm familiar with the mental strength that must be marshaled to get through the pain, though it most certainly will be pain of a variety I've already experienced.

At this moment, I don't think I can stand another abdominal surgery. Certainly a few more steroid injections might help with the pain I still experience over both of my hips. I plan to ask Brenda about whether surgery ultimately will be more efficacious in resolving this chronic pain. My guess is that it won't.

I can't speculate on how much of a toll surgery will take on my energy level, which is being managed relatively well with Ritalin. I need to carry on with my life and that requires that I'm not burdened with insurmountable fatigue.

I've worked so hard the past several months to regain strength, stamina and mobility. I wonder how much will remain after the surgery. Of course, I will start rebuilding again as soon as I'm able. Right now, I need to come to terms with the loss.

I can elect to move on and leave things as they are. I regularly remind myself of that fact. Just as regularly, my thought process shuts down. I know I will have the necrotic tissue removed. I like to think that in the dissociative silence settling over me that my brain is sending messages to this body beaten down by three years of medical assault. It's reminding the body that I can get through this.

Day Trip to Loathsome Village

I spent the first part of my day yesterday in Loathsome Village. It's still a relatively small outpost in Crazy Land, but we have to add more space on from time to time in order to accommodate Loathsome's ever growing sense of self importance.

Around 7:30, Loathsome loomed in the doorway to my office. No time for pleasantries.

"Do you have a computer?"

Since I was sitting right in front of one, I wasn't sure I'd heard the question correctly.

"What?"

"I don't have a computer," he said. Yes, he does. I was bewildered. After some prodding and guessing, I determined that he wasn't able to log onto his computer. I told him mine was working fine and, not having gotten the answer he was looking for, he continued standing in my doorway, periodically mumbling, "Huh?" He loves to do that. Whenever anyone says something to him, his first response is always "huh."

"Do you want me to come look at it?" I asked. I was screwed either way, so I thought I might as well get it over with.

It took a little while for me to find a way for him to log onto his computer so he could work until IT Boy decided to show up. Loathsome stood looking over my shoulder the whole time, periodically asking me if the computer had just executed some action without a prompt from me. If that were possible, every computer he's ever worked with would have permanently shut down immediately after it realized who was using it.

I started to restore the computer to a previous date, but then Loathsome mentioned something about "a bug" he'd picked up around the web. It might have been good if he'd mentioned that before I attempted to start it not in Safe Mode. I restored to a more distant date, then checked his Internet Security setup.

The firewall was off. I pointed out to him that the firewall should always be on. That way we don't get "bugs." It's kind of like putting one of those toilet seat covers on before you use the bathroom in public restrooms. It's the Larry Craig explanation. Since Loathsome would probably tell you that he, too, has a "wide stance," I figured it would be an analogy he would understand.

"I don't ever do anything to my computer." He seemed a little defensive. I don't care whether he does or not. I simply wanted to get out of the Village of the Loathsome and back to my sanctuary.

I told him he was up and running, able to access his holy email account, until IT Boy arrived. He was gracious enough to say thank you, but by the time I'd gotten back to my office, I decided somebody needs to pay me some extra money for that. Could be Loathsome, could be IT Boy, could be the company as a whole (combat pay). Every time I walk into that office, another 10 years gets whacked off my lifespan so somebody needs to compensate me for it.