Firstly, it goes without saying that I have had a torrid love affair with M.I.A. for the last few months, so forgive me for ignoring you all. I have been bombarded with a severe case of writers block catalyzed by a promotion, a pending surgery, and a whole lot of laundry that really REALLY doesn’t do itself. But I am back!
Secondly, so I know this blog began as a weight loss blog, but I realize it has more to do with general loss, and reflection. Loss has such a bad rap, but it can be a great thing, such as a new start, and/or a new clothing size. The last three years have been monumental, for so many reasons, amazingly great because of some sort of loss, so I think it’s time to start opening up about it, on the internet, for the select two of you (hi mom) that read this thing (and thank you to mysterio number 2, whoever you are).
A little over a week ago, I had back surgery. A surgery that inevitably had to happen, either now, or in 10 years, and conditions were getting worse. So, with some research, prayer, and tears, I decided to have the lower lumbar procedure done that would knock me off my feet for a week. Yep, I would be A-ok in just a week!
That was the plan anyway.
The doctor made it clear that, while I am a perfect candidate to be back (totally welcomed pun) in action in a week, he said that, in order for me to really make an 100% recovery, I am to stay away from the following:
1-Nicotine (I don’t smoke. Easy enough)
3-Alcohol (does he know I am staying with my mother, who will never entertain the sinners of the cooking network who use wine in their dishes?)
“Que que?!? No ambition? That’s going to be a hard one,” I thought as he kept talking about bone fusion, blah blah blah.
I live for being busy. I have three jobs, work out three times a week, volunteer in a few places, and have a social life. Not to mention freelancing gigs, running a business, and still trying to maintain consistent flossing!
I was hell-bent on getting back on my feet in a week. However, the body, well, the body had different plans. And I had to listen. Case in point, same day of surgery, probably 7 hours later (I really cannot attest to the truth of timing. After 9:47am that Monday, right before surgery prep, I lost all sense of time until Tuesday around lunchtime, when my love returned for me. My appetite). Anyway, some time WAY later after I got the first drops of anesthesia, I decided it was time to do something! I refused to just lay there, in bed, like a victim, like someone who just had major back surgery. So I decided to go for a walk to the bathroom to be a decent young lady and make a polite tinkle.
That was the plan anyway.
Said plan went out the window when, in order to get to the bathroom, I needed 4 people, a dire case of humility, and very intimidate introductions with all the lovely nursing aids that held either one of my arms or legs. I will leave it at that, as I am still reeling from the aftermath of my attempt to RSVP yes to the polite tinkle. Luckily, the best place to be the anti-polite tinkle gal is the hospital.
It was after that, that I decided to just take it easy, to really recover. The drugs were AMAZING for that, but anybody who knows me knows I do not like taking any pills. But during my time at the hospital, I could not do without. I was there for three days, and even had a quick cocktail of Morphine, which was a bit too strong for me, but the body wanted it. And, for the week following, I definitely was my body’s bitch.
I came to my mom’s place Wednesday evening, after enduring Manhattan rush hour traffic and my brother trying to make me laugh and succeeding, only with every drug-infested giggle came excruciating pain. Of course, that only makes you laugh even more. I clutched my bottle of percocets and valium and prayed for a cozy bed, a monotonous Chelsea Handler stand-up routine and a glass of water.
The first few days I did sleep a lot, but also did some walking around the block. I even got this cool cane, not so much that I needed it, but to give my fellow rude New Yorkers a visual that I was walking slow due to a medical condition, not because I was being a pretentious hipster who thought owning Astoria came with daddy's trust fund.
My mom made the best of dishes for me, dishes that really do taste better because they are made by momma, and I caught up on some horrible TV, including, but not limited to Ghost Whisperer, Braxton Family Values, Bridezillas, Syndicated Sex and the City (bleh!), and possibly a documentary on sharks (during commercial breaks of The Big Bang Theory). Truth is, I don’t have cable, so it was like giving a diabetic some gold ole Starburst. I couldn’t get enough! I also broke up with Percocet 2 days after leaving the hospital and stuck to advil. Now I take it when needed. So no Colombian stereotype needed here, my friends.
A week came and went, and it was decided that I needed another week to recuperate. I had a breakdown Sunday night, the Monday before the week-a-versary of BS 2011 (back surgery 2011), and I couldn’t figure out what to do. I really wanted to go back to work, to get back to normalcy, to feel like I was contributing to society and not to the ratings of Jerseylicious. With the new promotion and major changes rapidly approaching, I felt like I had to be at work. But my body. Well, the bitch wanted something else.
After being talked off the ledge from my Bff, Jay, and from Yoda (not to mention a life threatening promise not to leave Astoria or I'd be cut by my dear friend, Mel), I decided it was best to stay home another week, and I humbly obliged and have been resting ever since.
Today, Wednesday November 17, 2011, over a week since my life went “STOPP!!!!!!!!!!”, and I have been listening, and within the last few days I have been feeling like my old self! I’m feeling ready to move back home, which will be a trying mission not to have fresh dishes, my mom's daily presence (which really helped this 30 years old get better, I can't emphasize enough) and bad reality TV. But I miss my felines and my cable-less tv (ie: brain cells), and being able to just take a walk on my own. I know I can do all this soon. Just waiting for my body to decide when she is ready.
Any day now, bitch.