Life: Post-Crainiotemy

So the surgery is over. As you've probably guessed by now, I woke up and haven't lost any substanial life functions. My head is finally clear enough that I can think and stay on track with something for at least long enough to blog about it.

There are subtle differences between what my life was and what it's metamorphosing into. I still feel like shit (physically) most of the time. It gets better every day, even if only by a little bit. I'm hopeful, but not too hopeful, mostly due to my ridiculous fear of disappointment. I suddenly have a sense of smell again. She had taken a hiatus while I was a freshman in high school, and (most likely having found a nicer locale,) had seemed destined never to return. While her homecoming has been welcome, she's a dramatic little bitch and now everything tastes funny.

I'm finally able to resume some creative pursuits again. It's tough, given that I can't turn my head or pick up anything that is heavier that 5 pounds, but anything is better than nothing. I even did a bunch of mending, for christ's sake. Being out of bed is fabulous. To be honest, my body is so sore from lying still and doing nothing that being in bed is now almost too physically taxing to be considered unless I am in a medication-induced slumber. I want to do yoga so badly it's tonto. I love that word. There is no reasonable, single-word English equivalent. Tonto is like a cross between ridiculously stupid and soft in the head. My mind is still pretty soft-boiled from the medication and surgical stress, so I can't think about anything that's intellectually stressful for very long, meaning that working on my thesis and the course outlines I've been re-writing are right out. Reading my email is stressful, for fuck's sake.

Not that I'm not exceedingly grateful. EXCEEDINGLY.

I woke up. I'm not a vegetable, I don't require machines to eat and/or breathe, and all my extremities seem to be functioning as designed. At some point, my neurosurgeon will allow my fiancee and I to resume sexual relations and I'll be able to do yoga and ride my tricycle and build things and go back to work.

I'd like everyone to know that our society does a SHITTY job of including the disabled in regular life. FYI. While I'm allowed and encouraged to take little walks everyday, long walks or shopping are right out. Sometimes I use my own chair, but it's the sort of thing the hospital lends you and is awful in every way from the worn out brakes to the lack of foot rests (wtf?) Often, I depend on those electric scooter things in stores or I can simply forget it, because Matt can't push me and the cart at the same time. Last person forgot to charge it? I'm SOL. The best is when the customer service person says "oh, I don't think that's been working for a while." WELL, FIX IT ALREADY, ASSHOLE! Today, I got to ride in one of those humiliating multiple child seats designed for beleaguered moms with multiple spawn. My favorite part is how people give me dirty looks when I get out of my chair and walk somewhere. I feel like I need to wear a sign that says "my legs are fine. It's my spinal cord that's the problem, dipshit."