Advice from Jim, my favorite Outlaw~

Since Jim and Anita are Brandy's parents, I get to call them my "outlaws." I was pleased to get an eMail response from them today regarding my surgery and what Jim refers to as my "newly acquired hotness." He warns that I must use my powers for GOOD.

I chuckled when I read it. Then I laughed out loud. I would have gone into a full knee-slap, but my tender post-surgical areas disallow that. So, I carefully considered this new illusion of "hotness" and then replied accordingly:

Oh yes, dear Jim….. I am hot. And then I am cold. And then I am hot again. I drip sweat while shivering… this is because of “reduced body volume” and my newly hot body attempting to get used to it.

I have two hand-grenade things attached to tubes that that go into delicate body areas. They drain a lovely color of liquid constantly. I finally grew balls! I am wearing a strait-jacket thing that velcroes well to itself and to delicate lower body hair. It has sharp edges that are gouging my upper legs and hip areas. Since I have reduced sensation, I don’t notice these secondary injuries until they start bleeding or the irritation causes me to look. (That or Augie Doggie attempting to “clean” the wound.)

My back aches from taking over from my newly tightened torso muscles – which were in good shape to begin with but couldn’t be seen or heard. Now they are on a 15-day strike because their delicate sheaths have been stitched and yanked and heaved into a new location.

I have the stamina of an sloth, drink water constantly, pee hourly, and have to sleep with every pillow in the house. I am awake every 2 hours to pee or turn over so I don’t get bedsores. The only good night sleep I’ve had in 6 nights was on Tuesday – when I took an anti-anxiety pill and chased it with a pain pill. I slept for 12 solid hours. I did not get up to pee and I did not turn over. It took me 20 minutes to unwedge myself from my pillow cocoon. Then I had to hobble to the bathroom with a bladder worthy of a racehorse. Something tells me this little drug cocktail would have gotten me on television if my last name were "Hilton" or "Spears."

When I finally got to shower, after three long days, I couldn’t do it alone. Only a TRUE best friend would come and help with such a task. And I have one. The only downside is the fact that three of us know about this little arrangement, and one of them is my husband who was at work at the time. He said he wished he’d known – he’d have come home with his camera. (Yeah, to two middle aged women taking a shower… one of them wearing party beads and plastic testicles.)

I have to shower with the testicles slung through bright green Mardi Gras beads since those were all I had handy in the bathroom when I needed something to keep the 17 yards of aquarium tubing from sliding out of my body when the hand grenade portions hit the ground. Not that they could – they are sutured to a very delicate area in the body that is not reacting well to its unexpected shave and foreign objects of attachment. Re-read that part…SUTURED. I want you to picture 17 yards of aquarium tubing SUTURED to an area within centimeters of YOUR, uh…. “drains.”

Oh yes, dear OutLaw Jim.. I am HOT.

Kim