So as of this title entry, it’s 2:53 am and I should be asleep. In 9 hours, I get admitted to an outpatient facility to get my knee sliced open. I don’t know what bothers me more – the actual surgery or the recovery. I’m scared, and I hate admitting that. I mean, these things are supposed to be fairly procedural, right? Still, the idea of them knocking me out, slicing me open, and installing some dead person’s ligaments (tendons? whatever) in my body just seems so foreign to me. The nurse that called me today went over my checklist of stuff to bring, do and remember and asked me if I had a living will. That hit home a bit, but surely that type of thing is a common question for any type of procedure, right?
My sister came over today and helped me move stuff, clean, and get this area ready for me to be confined to for the forseeable future. I packed a suitcase and put it nearby with a week’s worth of clothes, and by clothes I mean t-shirts, hoodies, and pj pants. Oh, and a swim suit just in case I need to get help into the shower. I guess it’s the lack of modesty and feeling of helplessness I’m looking the least forward to. I think back to PT, you know. We were really similar in many ways – some good, some bad. He went from a normal enough guy to almost helpless. I remember he told me that he took a shit in front of a nurse while recovering from his operation, to the surprise of the staff as they didn’t believe that his insides had healed up enough for that type of progress. Yeah, I was proud…in a really weird way…but I couldn’t grasp the idea of being able to do something like that in front of a stranger. He told me “It’s amazing how little modesty you have left after something like this.” THAT’S what freaks me out. I’m not sure I want to get to that point. I’m stubborn, and when I put my pride on the line, I’m almost immovable. My knee could be ready to fall off before I jump in a motorized cart at Wal*Mart, for instance. I’ve turned down a lot of help from a lot of people – some that I knew I could count on, and some that surprised me. It bothered me as it was today that I had to ask my sister to help me move stuff around, but I know if it was just me, I’d just be sitting in a heap on the floor without a single fuck left to give.
My ex actually texted me a few days ago – I haven’t spoken to her in months. She was the one from Jersey that I used to live with. I was supposed to go to a concert with her back in December but she met some guy and cancelled our plans, emailing me back the ticket info that she bought for my birthday. I deleted the email since I wasn’t going to venture out to Philly by myself, plus I was a bit irritated at the situation. Not that I wanted to be with her, but not that I really cared to see her forget about me and move on. Whatever – it’s complicated. Anyhow, I got a “Hey. How have you been?” text the other day and I didn’t immediately respond. One, because I didn’t know if I wanted to reply. Two, because I didn’t know HOW to reply. And three, the Pens game was starting soon and I didn’t want to be bothered during it. Priorities…
So the next day (Monday), I got a text saying “Clearly, not meant for you.”
“?”
“The text”
“OK…I clearly have no idea why you’re retracting it”
“Sent to wrong person”
So now I’m pissy Either she honestly mistexted me, which I highly doubt, or she decided that she really doesn’t give a damn how I was.
“Perhaps you should just delete me from your contacts to save further embarrassment and confusion then.”
She replied, “didn’t mean to embarrass you”
So now I’m more irked, and replied, “Well I think the only thing shittier about the last few months between you and me is that you retracted that first text. To find out that, just kidding – you really don’t give a shit. Take care and just delete me.”
I have yet to hear back, so maybe she did. She and I always used to keep in touch, even when we weren’t together, and at least kept a friendship. Maybe this is partly on me, but it’s not all on me. Just one more person that doesn’t seem to give a shit about me when I thought they would, I guess. That’s what it comes down to – I’m grateful for the people in my life that care, but it bothers me to learn that the people I thought I could count on don’t care. Perhaps I should focus more on those that still do, but easier said than done.
So here I am – it’s 3:20 and I should sleep, even though I’ll sleep when they knock me out. I told my sister I’d end her if she filmed me during my anesthetic haze, but I should probably not be allowed access to a phone or facebook for the time being, either. If I leave my phone with her, she’ll change my facebook status to something embarrassing, but I do the same to her. Last time, I changed her status to “Does anyone have a cheaper alternative cure for herpes, because Valtrex is soooo expensive!” So…I probably have it coming. I’d say wish me luck, but I really only write this for myself. I am the type of person that never quite knows how they feel about something until I stream of conscious it all out. I start writing and really don’t know where it’ll end up or what conclusions I will come to till it’s done. So…let’s just end it here and see what happens.
Hip-deep in Shallow Tenacity 