It’s what I have become.
But - I’m still a rebellious soul.
I AM rebelling, I want MY life back. Not the past, mind you - the future. Can’t change the past but I can learn to take charge of my current future, instead of just letting it happen.

Everybody is alone with themselves, sometimes - it’s the re-charge times in your life. You re-group, digest, process all the wonderful, and less so, experiences that touched you and you consider their consequences. And you get on with YOUR life.

That innermost core is our very, very own sacrosanct secret, a place where nobody gains access from outside - only God knows. That place contains a few “dark secrets”, which everybody has no matter how good you are in the eyes of the world. We’re all our own harshest judges when it comes right down to that core.

God is always there to hear our concerns, it pleases Him that we’re “trying” in the grand scheme of things. It is what makes you a saint. It is your Faith. Hence, you’re never truly alone.

Then there’s day-to-day life. Human life involves a lot of interaction and we all crave concern, both for ourselves and for others. Without the concern component, life becomes empty, no matter how much platitudinal interaction we have.

I have nearly completely abandoned the concern component for the “near” (how much “dear” is mandatory?). Two old sayings are illustrative here:
1) The jug will carry water from the well only until it breaks.
2) You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink.

This is unfortunate, and I’m still wrestling with this. I jokingly say “sign me up for the Alzheimer’s study” - sadly, it sounds like a wonderful refuge to me. That is how close I keep getting to what I call capitulation. I’m developing a non-suicidal death wish as an alternative - I’m DONE.

I am not ALONE, but boy - am I ever LONELY!

Give me a few days.

THANKS!

  The effects of the surgery were, in general, less taxing than expected. I didn’t know just what to expect so had prepared myself & RK for “the worst”. Despite not feeling all that terrible, overall, I was bound and determined to take full advantage of these three weeks as a convalescent. It was wonderful! Sleep, nap, watch the tube (yeah - can’t afford fancy new set!), rummage through old photographs & scanning for upload.

  Meanwhile, subcutaneous stitches were starting to poke through - very annoying. Most dissolved, as intended, but the rest toyed with my patience: the nurses/assistants at the Dr.’s office kept having to yank them for me. Little by little the regular stitches were snipped, too. All along - NO PAIN! I had made sure that the potent pain killer prescription was filled, along with the various other ones. But - so far - no need for it. YAY.

  Some 6-8 lbs lighter and with Thanksgiving just around the corner, I received welcome news from the Dr. - he was going to do my lip division on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving! How wonderful, such great timing - I’M HUNGRY!

  Bright and really early (had to use “the secret code” to access the building. That’s early!) Tuesday morning found me on location, ready and, again, excited. This is the one morning the Dr. is running late, darn it - it was wa-ay too early for my liking. Semi-napped for a bit. The Dr. had a full schedule (as always, from what I have gathered - when you want the Best…) and started some other patients’ procedures that would need subsequent wait time before getting to me. Local anesthetics, again, and some time to let them kick in. Then the team gathered and the lip-division started. Oh, dear! Who would’ve thought cutting through a 1/4″ of flesh could hurt that bad? I don’t think the Dr. missed the mark with the anesthetic (he’s way too expert for that), lips are just super sensitive areas. A very strange feeling when my lips started to separate - tension release from having been kept in place for some time. The final snip was such a relief, even through all that nasty pain, just being able to open the mouth felt like Heaven!

  A little bit of lip BBQ and a pressure bandage finished off the treatment for the day. I was sure glad RK was there to do the driving-home bit - I was stunned at how much pain finally had become a part of this whole BCC mess. We did stop in on the way home to fill another prescription for the short run of antibiotics needed, just so we wouldn’t have to deal with any more excursions that day (the sun wasn’t even out of bed yet when our day started). I was exhausted! Went to bed, tried TV for distraction, snoozing - ANYTHING to make the pain go away. Gave it about two hours, then gave in and gingerly ingested prescription pain killers for the first time. Took another dose later that evening/night. That was it. I didn’t need any more after that - so, a total of 3 pain pills is all that’s missing from that bottle.

  My Alton Brown inspired son and his girlfriend had invited both sides of the families to a Thanksgiving feast at their apartment of just about 1 month. And a Feast it was, very well done, son! I think even something unsuccessful would’ve been fabulous to me at that point - but this just made it all extra special.

  We made good time and I presented myself at the admissions desk, check-writing chops at the ready. Sigh. That was a nice chunk of change. The Dr. was willing to send me home right after recovery, but he didn’t seem really happy about it. Neither was I, so I decided to spring for the cost of an overnight stay at the hospital.

  The wait that followed in the prep room seemed interminable. More signatures. Then some really lame questionnaire by a staffer whose accent was so thick I could barely understand her. I was in nooo mood for any of that, by now - I just wanted to be put under and get the show on the road. Thankfully, the Dr.’s office had directed me to local test facilities for blood & EKG earlier in the week, so some of the circus was cut out of the admission procedure.

  Finally (but actually very close to original schedule!) they wheeled me off, straight into the operating room. I was surrounded by calmness - the last preparations for the surgery were being seen to by this most outstandingly efficient, yet unhurried, calm team. Had I had any qualms about anything, they would’ve disappeared right then - the whole environment exuded confidence and competence. The anesthesiologist very calmly started his procedures, then went about some “secret tasks” (not secret, I’m sure - he was within my field of vision past the foot of the table staying busy with something) and asked my birth date at intervals. I thought I’d feel it coming, but nope - at some point I was just gone. From crystal clear to blank, no woozies inbetween.

  Not a clue as to what time it was when I came to in what was my own private room. NICE! The “usual” hook-ups, and various medical staff making sure it was me, there. It was. Liquid meal was brought - chicken broth & some juices. Pretty good, actually. Spirits coming back, taking in the set-up. Great big room with a seating area off in the corner BY THE WINDOW! And, of course, my very own bathroom. Considering all the equipment, attention and care on top of the physical room itself, that extra money spent was so well worth it. Later that night I could look out that window and see lights and lightning in the hills. At a lower nightly rate, I’d move in permanently!

  Not everything went peachy - the aftereffects of anesthesia made for a reunion between the chicken broth and fresh air. That was not fun, not with my mouth freshly re-arranged and with only about 1/4 inch opening exposed through the bandages. No pain, just a soggy unpleasant mess - yuck. Whatever time it was, I snoozed off and on, and RK was visiting and time went by. I don’t know if there were pain meds in the drip - I doubt it - but I felt no pain. Sweet nurses kept checking on me. Then we went for a repeat performance of the chicken broth experience. Darn! But, that somehow seemed to be it, to get those aftereffects out of the system. Put me off chicken broth for a bit, though - not so good when looking forward to three weeks of sucking nutrition through a straw and a 1/4 inch mouth opening. C’est la vie, I guess…

  The Dr. stopped by and gave me passing grade so release procedures followed. RK was there to transport me home, I signed some more papers, got another prescription, or two, gathered up all the dearly paid-for plastic tubs and hygiene products, put my clothes back on and got my ride in the chair to the front entry.

  The ride home was pretty smooth. It was October 31 - Halloween - no masks or costumes needed, here! I was pretty scary looking “au naturel”, but oh, so happy.