Seven days later and I'm still bloated, still sore, and still alone.
I just re-read my last post...what does a girl have to do to get a little bit of attention from the guy she really likes? One would think surgery would do it, but not in this case.
I have heard zilch from my Butterfly since those few fleeting text messages after my surgery. No emails, no phone calls, no text messages, no smoke signals, and no pigeons (although there are a few nesting on my balcony, none came with a note).
NOTHING
NOTHING
NOTHING
Which is what I should be feeling for him now. NOTHING. He has shown me beyond a shadow of a doubt that he is a grade-A-son-of-a-bitch-loser-mother-fucker.
But last night I was lying in bed wishing on a star, hoping with all my might, that he would contact me. He's leaving tomorrow for a 2 week vacation to Portugal. His Facebook status says "Butterfly wants your home address if You want a postcard from him." I am soooooooo tempted to email him my address. But I know I'll only be disappointed when he doesn't send me a postcard. Just like he didn't call me this WHOLE week. I'm housebound, and he's currently between jobs so there's nothing stopping us from being together for a few hours.
Okay, I think I'm done being a whiny loser. But you gotta cut me some slack. It was the first guy I allowed myself to care about since my husband. Since LAST SUMMER! I knew it would be hard, and I knew it would hurt, but I didn't anticipate it would suck this badly.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Ms. Appendectomy
I had quasi-emergency surgery at 1:30am yesterday morning. It was to remove my inflamed-but-getting-close-to-bursting appendix. I am really glad I listened to my body enough to get myself to the doctor for the diagnosis.
The pain started on Sunday night, after eating a few hamburgers my brother had cooked on the BBQ. I figured my tummy just wasn't liking my brother's cooking. I was running a fever and feeling super duper nauseous. I slept it off and woke up Monday morning ready to take on the world! Well, I was ready to get my annual physical from my family doctor, aka hand-up-in-my-junk exam. I skipped breakfast knowing he would be sending me for blood work, which usually requires at least 8 hours of fasting.
I was feeling fine during my examination so I figured whatever was bugging my tummy the night before had worked its way out. Along with the blood work, my doctor wanted me to get an x-ray on my left leg to make sure I didn't break it from dropping a box on it 6 months ago. There's still a bruise which is tender to the touch.
As I was waiting for my x-ray, I started to feel a bit queasy. Then as I was getting my blood drawn, I was feeling down right vomit-ious. Of course, I chalked it up to not having had anything to eat since the disaster burgers the night before. The remedy for nausea is of course, getting a cheeseburger Happy Meal from McDonald's on the drive back to Toronto.
I got to the office at about 2pm and by 3pm, I was running a fever and feeling down right bad. I left the office at 4pm and when I got home, I called Telehealth Ontario. After being on hold and then getting on the call back list (there's even a wait time for a phone service!), a nurse listened to me describe my symptoms and suggested I see a doctor within 4 hours. And upon that advice, I ate a plain piece of bread and passed out around 9pm.
Tuesday morning arrived and with it, more pain. There was no sleeping off whatever this was. I emailed work to let them know I would be going to the doctor and would probably be in the next day. Famous last words!
The doctor at the clinic took a look at me for about 2 seconds and declared me to be suffering from appendicitis. He asked me if anyone had come with me, to which the answer was no, as I don't have a husband or even a boyfriend. He advised me to "get someone" and get my ass to a hospital ASAP.
I called my Faux Beau and of course, he came to my rescue (as per usual). I checked into the ER at 2pm on the "urgent care" list. Two hours later I was finally examined, on a chair outside of the nurses station. Apparently, they were all full up, not an empty bed in sight. My doctor was this beautiful, delicate, picture-perfect woman. I wanted to punch her for that, and for telling me they were going to yank out my appendix. I started to cry and she told me to save my tears for later. Later? Later?! Like how about right at that moment when I realized that my family was 2 hours away, my cat was at home unfed, and I had my FAUX beau there with me instead of my HUSBAND or even my Butterfly.
I sucked it up long enough to get an ultrasound which took an hour and a half because my appendix was hiding behind all sorts of gas in my bowels. The technician couldn't get a clear picture so she suggested a vaginal ultrasound. Sure! Why not?! That's exactly what I needed - a condom covered wand that would make all my dreams come true. Sadly, that was the most action I'd seen since my Butterfly faded away.
Still with no appendix in sight, the technician called in not one, but two doctors. Thankfully there wasn't going to be a repeat wand-up-the-vajayjay. However they had me half twisted on the exam table and jabbing me mercilessly with the ultrasound wand. Finally the gas passed enough for them to get a picture of my appendix. Yup, as suspected, it was angry and inflamed.
They shipped me back to the ER to await my doom, er, the surgeon. At this point my Divorce Twin had arrived. She did quite a routine to keep my mind off the impending abdominal slicing. When my surgeon finally arrived around 8:30pm, both DT and I fell in love with him. He was the CUTEST thing EVER! Tall, brown hair, bluuuuuue eyes, slightly unshaven. Heaven in scrubs!
He explained the surgery to me and asked if I had any questions. (Question: How many of these have you done? Answer: 500, all lived to tell the tale.) When he left my room, my DT suggested I should ask him out. Ha! Really, how do you ask out someone who's about to go head first into your bowels? I took a pass on that one.
Midnight came and went and so did DT as she had an early morning meeting with her boss that was not to be missed. Faux Beau let me play with his blackberry and I updated my Facebook status to let everyone know I was going under the knife sooner rather than later.
Then it was time to go up to the OR. This is the part where I really wished I was in the alternate universe where Simon was not insane and still my husband and holding my hand as they wheeled me into prep. This is the part where I wished my Butterfly wasn't so fucking neurotic and afraid of his feelings and was beside me, holding my hand while the anesthesiologist was explaining how he was going to shove a tube down my throat to keep me alive during surgery. This is the part where I wondered why someone who is as smart and funny and wonderful as me was lying there by herself, having to face her own mortality because of a little useless organ that decided to get angry.
My heart rate hit 166 beats per minute before the anesthetic kicked in and knocked my sorry ass out.
Faux Beau told me it took about 2 hours before they brought me out of recovery. Apparently I had a hard time waking up. He emailed my dad & brothers to let them know I was alive and then headed home to get some much needed sleep. It was 4:30am and I was lying in a bed with 3 shiny new cuts in my belly. I was lying there shivering, in pain, and ALONE.
I fell in and out of consciousness until about 9am. My McDreamy Surgeon came in to check on me and he told me a bunch of stuff I can't remember because I was totally STONED on MORPHINE. Again, another reason why it's better to have someone with you during life changing events.
Later, when I could make out solid shapes, I turned on my cell phone and there were a few worried text messages from my Butterfly. Yay! He actually cared!! I responded to let him know I was alive. He sent a message back asking where I was. Yay! He's going to come and visit!! I sent him the info. He asked me if they'd given me jello. Yes, I said. What colour, he asked. Red! I said! And then NOTHING. I truly must have been stoned out of my mind to think he'd actually show up.
Faux Beau, DT and my friend Jason all arrived in the afternoon with tea, flowers and jogging pants respectively. They kept me entertained while I ate my shitty hospital food and then packed me up and brought me home. My cat had thrown up while I was away. He does that if I don't let him know I'll be gone overnight. It's touching, yet sad that the only creature on this planet who throws up if I'm gone, licks his own balls.
And then I was alone, again. And again I was wishing for that alternate universe where Simon would be taking care of me. Or where Butterfly would be over, trying to make me laugh but not because it hurt my stitches. Or another universe where there was SOMEONE, who loved me in the biblical sense, taking care of me.
Sleep last night was excruciating. I should have stayed in the hospital where my fancy bed could maneuver me into a position that didn't feel like my stomach was being ripped apart. I should have stayed so that I could pull on the cord and someone (although paid for it) who gave a shit would come help me to the bathroom.
This experience reinforced why it is that I so badly want to be in a relationship now. Alone hurts. Alone and scared hurts more. Alone and facing the unknown is truly unbearable.
The pain started on Sunday night, after eating a few hamburgers my brother had cooked on the BBQ. I figured my tummy just wasn't liking my brother's cooking. I was running a fever and feeling super duper nauseous. I slept it off and woke up Monday morning ready to take on the world! Well, I was ready to get my annual physical from my family doctor, aka hand-up-in-my-junk exam. I skipped breakfast knowing he would be sending me for blood work, which usually requires at least 8 hours of fasting.
I was feeling fine during my examination so I figured whatever was bugging my tummy the night before had worked its way out. Along with the blood work, my doctor wanted me to get an x-ray on my left leg to make sure I didn't break it from dropping a box on it 6 months ago. There's still a bruise which is tender to the touch.
As I was waiting for my x-ray, I started to feel a bit queasy. Then as I was getting my blood drawn, I was feeling down right vomit-ious. Of course, I chalked it up to not having had anything to eat since the disaster burgers the night before. The remedy for nausea is of course, getting a cheeseburger Happy Meal from McDonald's on the drive back to Toronto.
I got to the office at about 2pm and by 3pm, I was running a fever and feeling down right bad. I left the office at 4pm and when I got home, I called Telehealth Ontario. After being on hold and then getting on the call back list (there's even a wait time for a phone service!), a nurse listened to me describe my symptoms and suggested I see a doctor within 4 hours. And upon that advice, I ate a plain piece of bread and passed out around 9pm.
Tuesday morning arrived and with it, more pain. There was no sleeping off whatever this was. I emailed work to let them know I would be going to the doctor and would probably be in the next day. Famous last words!
The doctor at the clinic took a look at me for about 2 seconds and declared me to be suffering from appendicitis. He asked me if anyone had come with me, to which the answer was no, as I don't have a husband or even a boyfriend. He advised me to "get someone" and get my ass to a hospital ASAP.
I called my Faux Beau and of course, he came to my rescue (as per usual). I checked into the ER at 2pm on the "urgent care" list. Two hours later I was finally examined, on a chair outside of the nurses station. Apparently, they were all full up, not an empty bed in sight. My doctor was this beautiful, delicate, picture-perfect woman. I wanted to punch her for that, and for telling me they were going to yank out my appendix. I started to cry and she told me to save my tears for later. Later? Later?! Like how about right at that moment when I realized that my family was 2 hours away, my cat was at home unfed, and I had my FAUX beau there with me instead of my HUSBAND or even my Butterfly.
I sucked it up long enough to get an ultrasound which took an hour and a half because my appendix was hiding behind all sorts of gas in my bowels. The technician couldn't get a clear picture so she suggested a vaginal ultrasound. Sure! Why not?! That's exactly what I needed - a condom covered wand that would make all my dreams come true. Sadly, that was the most action I'd seen since my Butterfly faded away.
Still with no appendix in sight, the technician called in not one, but two doctors. Thankfully there wasn't going to be a repeat wand-up-the-vajayjay. However they had me half twisted on the exam table and jabbing me mercilessly with the ultrasound wand. Finally the gas passed enough for them to get a picture of my appendix. Yup, as suspected, it was angry and inflamed.
They shipped me back to the ER to await my doom, er, the surgeon. At this point my Divorce Twin had arrived. She did quite a routine to keep my mind off the impending abdominal slicing. When my surgeon finally arrived around 8:30pm, both DT and I fell in love with him. He was the CUTEST thing EVER! Tall, brown hair, bluuuuuue eyes, slightly unshaven. Heaven in scrubs!
He explained the surgery to me and asked if I had any questions. (Question: How many of these have you done? Answer: 500, all lived to tell the tale.) When he left my room, my DT suggested I should ask him out. Ha! Really, how do you ask out someone who's about to go head first into your bowels? I took a pass on that one.
Midnight came and went and so did DT as she had an early morning meeting with her boss that was not to be missed. Faux Beau let me play with his blackberry and I updated my Facebook status to let everyone know I was going under the knife sooner rather than later.
Then it was time to go up to the OR. This is the part where I really wished I was in the alternate universe where Simon was not insane and still my husband and holding my hand as they wheeled me into prep. This is the part where I wished my Butterfly wasn't so fucking neurotic and afraid of his feelings and was beside me, holding my hand while the anesthesiologist was explaining how he was going to shove a tube down my throat to keep me alive during surgery. This is the part where I wondered why someone who is as smart and funny and wonderful as me was lying there by herself, having to face her own mortality because of a little useless organ that decided to get angry.
My heart rate hit 166 beats per minute before the anesthetic kicked in and knocked my sorry ass out.
Faux Beau told me it took about 2 hours before they brought me out of recovery. Apparently I had a hard time waking up. He emailed my dad & brothers to let them know I was alive and then headed home to get some much needed sleep. It was 4:30am and I was lying in a bed with 3 shiny new cuts in my belly. I was lying there shivering, in pain, and ALONE.
I fell in and out of consciousness until about 9am. My McDreamy Surgeon came in to check on me and he told me a bunch of stuff I can't remember because I was totally STONED on MORPHINE. Again, another reason why it's better to have someone with you during life changing events.
Later, when I could make out solid shapes, I turned on my cell phone and there were a few worried text messages from my Butterfly. Yay! He actually cared!! I responded to let him know I was alive. He sent a message back asking where I was. Yay! He's going to come and visit!! I sent him the info. He asked me if they'd given me jello. Yes, I said. What colour, he asked. Red! I said! And then NOTHING. I truly must have been stoned out of my mind to think he'd actually show up.
Faux Beau, DT and my friend Jason all arrived in the afternoon with tea, flowers and jogging pants respectively. They kept me entertained while I ate my shitty hospital food and then packed me up and brought me home. My cat had thrown up while I was away. He does that if I don't let him know I'll be gone overnight. It's touching, yet sad that the only creature on this planet who throws up if I'm gone, licks his own balls.
And then I was alone, again. And again I was wishing for that alternate universe where Simon would be taking care of me. Or where Butterfly would be over, trying to make me laugh but not because it hurt my stitches. Or another universe where there was SOMEONE, who loved me in the biblical sense, taking care of me.
Sleep last night was excruciating. I should have stayed in the hospital where my fancy bed could maneuver me into a position that didn't feel like my stomach was being ripped apart. I should have stayed so that I could pull on the cord and someone (although paid for it) who gave a shit would come help me to the bathroom.
This experience reinforced why it is that I so badly want to be in a relationship now. Alone hurts. Alone and scared hurts more. Alone and facing the unknown is truly unbearable.
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Brush and Rinse
Girl misses boy.
Girl wants to send boy an email.
Girl knows better than to lay herself out like a doormat (even more so than she has already).
Girl posts would-be-email here.
"So I came home and found your toothbrush laying helpless in the sink. It looked like she was trying to commit suicide. My toothbrush was still confined to his holder. I'm not sure if he had anything to do with assisting her in flinging herself off the edge. I've called in the SIU with this case.
I picked her up and cradled her in my hand. She looked up at me with her gorgeous blue & white eyes and asked me why you haven't been around.
I shook my head and shrugged. I sort of know the answer, but I'm still not really clear. And being a believer in not passing along misinformation, I didn't answer her question.
She asked me to pass along a message to you. She wants you to come back soon, it's safe here.
So that's all. I'm just passing along the message..."
Girl wants to send boy an email.
Girl knows better than to lay herself out like a doormat (even more so than she has already).
Girl posts would-be-email here.
"So I came home and found your toothbrush laying helpless in the sink. It looked like she was trying to commit suicide. My toothbrush was still confined to his holder. I'm not sure if he had anything to do with assisting her in flinging herself off the edge. I've called in the SIU with this case.
I picked her up and cradled her in my hand. She looked up at me with her gorgeous blue & white eyes and asked me why you haven't been around.
I shook my head and shrugged. I sort of know the answer, but I'm still not really clear. And being a believer in not passing along misinformation, I didn't answer her question.
She asked me to pass along a message to you. She wants you to come back soon, it's safe here.
So that's all. I'm just passing along the message..."
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
Flatline
Things between me and my butterfly are pretty much dead. He cancelled a sleep over last night. He said it just wasn't in the cards for him, as he's in a "bad head space".
What the fuck is a bad head space? Honestly, I don't get that. How bad can your head be to turn down SEX?!
I know that when I dumped Simon, I was in the worst emotional state of my life. But my head still had enough sense in it to recognize that I shouldn't start a relationship that I couldn't fully participate in.
Butterfly started a relationship with me, and is now backing out because he's not emotionally equipped to deal with it.
I wish he would have just said from the beginning, "All I want is sex from you, whenever I want it. Don't make plans with me, don't introduce me to your friends, just boo-tay please and thanks." That way I could have made an informed decision about whether to get involved. But that's not what happened. He wooed me. He played the part of a boyfriend, which is what I was looking for.
So with that, I quit. Again.
Never again.
Never again.
Never again.
Never again...
What the fuck is a bad head space? Honestly, I don't get that. How bad can your head be to turn down SEX?!
I know that when I dumped Simon, I was in the worst emotional state of my life. But my head still had enough sense in it to recognize that I shouldn't start a relationship that I couldn't fully participate in.
Butterfly started a relationship with me, and is now backing out because he's not emotionally equipped to deal with it.
I wish he would have just said from the beginning, "All I want is sex from you, whenever I want it. Don't make plans with me, don't introduce me to your friends, just boo-tay please and thanks." That way I could have made an informed decision about whether to get involved. But that's not what happened. He wooed me. He played the part of a boyfriend, which is what I was looking for.
So with that, I quit. Again.
Never again.
Never again.
Never again.
Never again...
Sunday, June 01, 2008
Final Countdown
In 32 hours, my Divorce Twin will be filing her second set of court papers. And in 30 days, she'll have a shiny new divorce decree.
In 44 days and 8 hours, I'll be filing my second set of court papers. And then you'll find me passed out in a bar somewhere shortly thereafter. I won't be drinking to drown my sorrows, I'll be drinking to celebrate my freedom!
As identical as this experience has been for me and my DT, there is one fundamental difference. I'm happy about it being over. She's profoundly sad. I am having a hard time providing her support at this point in time because I'm just so bloody happy it's almost done. I'm sure she doesn't want to hear how happy I am.
DT - I love you. You are amazing and strong and even though you are sad, you will be okay. I'm going to keep telling you this until one day you will look in the mirror and realize it's true. It's okay. It'll all be okay. You have the strength to do this, I promise.
Twelve months ago, the beginning of the end arrived. It was June 2007 when everything started to unravel at a speed I couldn't manage. Watching my life dissolve before my very eyes was overwhelming to say the least.
And now sitting here, with twelve months in between that life and this life, all I can do is breathe. Big breath in, and all of it out. My life is better, but not. My outlook is clear, but fuzzy. My hope for the future is there, but not at all. Conundrum. I never really understood the weight of that word until now.
I've had to patch myself back together, piece by microscopic piece. I don't think I've found all the pieces yet. I don't think I ever will. Some were completely obliterated on July 15, 2007. But for the most part, the core of me has been reset to where I was prior to meeting my husband.
I wish life could be like a computer. You can always reboot when everything crashes.
In 44 days and 8 hours, I'll be filing my second set of court papers. And then you'll find me passed out in a bar somewhere shortly thereafter. I won't be drinking to drown my sorrows, I'll be drinking to celebrate my freedom!
As identical as this experience has been for me and my DT, there is one fundamental difference. I'm happy about it being over. She's profoundly sad. I am having a hard time providing her support at this point in time because I'm just so bloody happy it's almost done. I'm sure she doesn't want to hear how happy I am.
DT - I love you. You are amazing and strong and even though you are sad, you will be okay. I'm going to keep telling you this until one day you will look in the mirror and realize it's true. It's okay. It'll all be okay. You have the strength to do this, I promise.
Twelve months ago, the beginning of the end arrived. It was June 2007 when everything started to unravel at a speed I couldn't manage. Watching my life dissolve before my very eyes was overwhelming to say the least.
And now sitting here, with twelve months in between that life and this life, all I can do is breathe. Big breath in, and all of it out. My life is better, but not. My outlook is clear, but fuzzy. My hope for the future is there, but not at all. Conundrum. I never really understood the weight of that word until now.
I've had to patch myself back together, piece by microscopic piece. I don't think I've found all the pieces yet. I don't think I ever will. Some were completely obliterated on July 15, 2007. But for the most part, the core of me has been reset to where I was prior to meeting my husband.
I wish life could be like a computer. You can always reboot when everything crashes.
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