Two months out

Sometimes it feels like that last surgery was ages ago and how come I’m not completely better yet? And sometimes I feel like I just got out of my third brain surgery in six months, and no wonder I’m so dang tired.

I’m doing well, I think. It’s been a bit of a roller-coaster, as this whole trip has been. I had some scary passing out stuff over and over, but touch wood, that seems to have resolved. I can now move my head in all directions without turning off like a switch flipped. Yay.

My blood pressure was “wildly” erratic, sending me to the ER when it got into the dangerous level, but that’s been a few weeks ago too, and it seems to have stabilized, nevermind that no one actually did anything to help it. Can’t put me on BP meds when it goes suddenly really low as well as really high, so all the doctors just punted and wanted to send me to various other specialists. I still have all those appointments, but I’m not sure I’ll go. (including a dang ENT to check out those silly inner ears of mine, always suspected of causing everything.)

My appetite isn’t back and I’m still slowly losing weight, but I can eat some days, but it’s a struggle. I’m better with other people around. I’m trying to remember to make the stuff that I like, but even then, when I have to literally choke it down, it’s really icky.

I’m working at the farm about a half day every day, and absolutely loving it. Mostly I’m gardening right now, as the kitchen isn’t ready for me yet. Four hours of hard physical labor is so awesome. It just makes me feel healthy and normal again, almost back to myself. Then, as noon arrives, I am PAU — Hawaiian word pronounced “pow” meaning done, finished, over. Such a handy word and I’m using it all the time.

I’m usually good for an afternoon nap of a few hours, and then I can putter around on the computer for bit, go do something with the dogs, that sort of thing, but am exhausted sometimes so much that just keeping upright is tough.

Writing is surprisingly really hard right now. I seem to struggle to concentrate, and I often reach for a word and pull out one that is close, but slightly off. I do it when I speak, too. Everyone says “oh, I do that too”, but I do it a lot, and it’s a new thing. I feel like there is still some nerve calibration and re-wiring going on in my head. I reach for “porch”, come up with “porridge”. What?! I used to be able to knock out a first draft of something really quickly, now it can take me an hour to write a few paragraphs, and it’s frustrating, so I quit. (So, sorry about not updating!) I’m going to try writing more to see if it will help, just small amounts maybe, instead of struggling to update for hours and then quitting. Sometimes reading my first draft is such gibberish that I’m disgusted and delete it.

My hair is coming back, slowly. I’m kind of enjoying the butch look, though I still see Jeremy in the mirror.