Friday, April 6, 2007

The angiogram

They told me I could not eat after midnight and that always freaks me out. I don't actually end up feeling deprived or hungry, it is the fear of hunger that bothers me. In general if I go anywhere unfamiliar or am traveling, I carry a store of food, just in case. I also keep a little store of food in my classroom.

Side story, I have always had this "Just in case there is a war" mentality. I must have seen some WWII movie at an early age that affected me profoundly. I keep my gold jewelry and first engagement ring handy in case I need to barter my way out of the country. Cash could be worthless. Then I have the escape plan, grab the jewelry and throw the pets into pillowcases. I read that somewhere. Pets will panic and jump out of your arms. The pillowcase will protect them from smoke, cradle them, prevent you from getting bitten or too scratched, and they won't get lost.

Okay, so now that I have formerly declared a bit of my insanity we can move on. Those of you who know me already know I am a little off. Listen it's probably the brain tumor. Once it is out, I will be a nice person who does not make sarcastic, off the cuff, scathing remarks. The cluster is probably pressing on my verbal impulse control nerve.

So we had some sandwiches and then Brian left and I kept watching tv and eating the rest of the food Brian P and Caroline had brought for me and drinking a ton of water. I stopped at midnight and figured I could sleep then but it was really hard. I was in a room with three other people but it was the stroke ward so they were pretty much silent. It was the beeping and ticking of all the machines. Someone may as well have been whistling and tapping a pen on his desk, it was so annoying. Fortunately I had my iPod with the 350 songs Sachi had loaded on for me. I listened with the volume only high enough to drown out the other noises. At first I cried a lot because all these sad songs came on like the Cold Play spiderweb song which fills me with guilt for being a terrible mother and ruining Christmas. Then Gypsy and Rosemary. Homeward Bound. Even Fat Man in a Little Coat made me cry because it reminds me of Tim. It probably was not the songs making me cry but my firmly established indestructible walls of denial prevent me from considering any other options.

In the morning, the nurse who was on was so nice. She brought me this little toiletry kit and change of hospital clothes and asked me if I'd like to get cleaned up. Communal bathrooms skeeve me out, by my roommates did not appear to have been out of bed for a couple of days so I took a shower. It felt surprisingly good and I was refreshed. Brian arrived and then shortly after a really hot doctor came to pick me up for the procedure. Transport is not the most efficient branch of Mount Sinai. I realized I had not put on clean panties yet and Doc Hottie said I'd be better off without them. I glanced over at Brian in horror.

2 comments:

misstrionics said...

Ugh, if you become a nice, non-sarcastic person, post-surgery, I will not know you anymore. I'll be like "who is this creepy stepford wife lady?" What if the brain tumor is the source of all your humor, like Chandler's third nipple?

Music is powerful. Sometimes when I am in Japan, listening to my Ipod, i hear songs that randomly make me want to cry, and I can't even remember what context I first heard them in.

Noah said...

Yea it would be really odd if you had no sense of humor "No noah Why would we talk about tv during math?"