The Longest Summer Ever

One day I’m going to make a list of Life Dichotomies — those things that almost contradict each other but are essential for life.

For example, the second you realize that “this is a good time”, you stop having a good time.  Another good one: “Throwing money” at a problem is considered lazy / unethical, but that’s exactly what money is for.

Here’s another one: when bad things are happening, you want time to move fast, you want the experience to go quickly; when good times are happening, you want time to slow down, you want to relish each second.  But it’s always the opposite:


Being swollen, by skeletal foot almost looks normal

I had heart surgery.  The surgery itself wasn’t too bad.  I spent about a week in the hospital and came home with zero complications (other than the swelling of the feet…

But that’s not really my fault.  I did everything they told me to do, but the brand new beds that they bought we about as comfortable as frozen fruit-of-the-loom dipped in olive oil then dipped in bedbugs; I had back spasms after about an hour.  So, since I’m supposed to be resting, I slept in the recliner they have sitting there for visitors.  I guess having your feet dangle below you as your body is trying to rebuild fluid is a bad idea)

puertorican…as a matter of fact, I had so few complications that the already-paid-for, regularly-prescribed home-nurse that they gave me stopped coming after two days because I didn’t need anything.  Either that or she kept getting offended when The Wife kept calling her “Puerto Rican Nurse” (which isn’t exactly racist, but she kept saying it like she saw a ghost).

The only take-home complications I had were that I couldn’t seem to keep a normal temperature — I was either extremely hot (like “I’m a sitcom mom on a very special menopause episode” hot) or extremely cold (like “that Seinfeld where Kramer isn’t wearing a coat because he wants to look cool for the party and then they get locked out of George’s car by Saddam Hussein so he’s comedically shivering” cold) — and I couldn’t sleep.  At all.  For weeks.

That’s an exaggeration.  Of course I slept.  But it was about two hours a day.  Sometimes, on a good day, I could get four.  Not in a row, of course.  My schedule was generally this: the family goes to bed around 9:00, I stay up to watch Colbert, then I close my eyes ’til about 4:00.  At which point, I would do my exercises (which consisted of lifting my arms many times and walking around the dining room table) and go close my eyes again.  The kids get up around 7:00 and I spend the rest of the day trying to figure out how to spend the rest of the day.

Every day seemed like several days.  The summer felt like several summers (I’m sure there’s a Game of Thrones meme I could add here, but I’ve never seen it).  This was one of the few times in my life where I wanted everything to fly by, where I wanted to forget everything, where I wanted to sleep away the day, and instead I was aware of every second.

Now that I’m better (the prognosis being that I shouldn’t have to do anything out-of-the-ordinary for about a decade) and have a newfound appreciation for everything, life is flying past me in a blur.

It’s wonderfully frustrating.

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