bipolar mom shares her insights on everyday life

Single-Digit Midget

When Tom was in the Army, and you had less than 100 days left of your enlistment, you were called a Double-Digit Midget.  So, I’m a Single-Digit Midget.  Nine days until surgery.  Can’t come fast enough.  I’m having discomfort and ready to start to feel better.

We told the kids yesterday.  Karen was so busy listening to the music playing that I was surprised she even heard me.  She did keep eye contact, though.  And made fun of my hand gestures, which were implying it was “no big deal.”  We had planned on telling the kids yesterday afternoon.  One of the men at church asked Karen if she was going to go get a nurse’s uniform.  She gave him a funny look.  He said, “You know, so you can take care of your mom after her surgery.”  Oops.  So when we got in the car, she asked, “So what’s this surgery thing?” 

ADD Moment:  (Glenn Beck does this in his book, and I love it)  While talking with a 2nd grader the other day, she mentioned that she got a nurse’s uniform.  “And it came with its own testicles!”  If she hadn’t mimed putting the stethoscope in her ears, I’m not sure I would have figured it out!  When I told her mom, she laughed and laughed.  She asked me if I laughed out loud, and I was proud to say I did not.  We were having a very serious, adult conversation, so I just smiled really big and said, “Wow!  How cool is that?”

So, Karen truly was not affected by the news.  Good.  Kinda guessed that one.  Oh, but when she left this morning, she did want to know if she could tell her friends that she walks to school with.  Well, at least she was able to use it as a “wow!” moment.

Then, it was time for Mark.  I was prepared for a boy that would hug me, ask questions, and be genuinely worried.  Which is why I didn’t want to tell him earlier.  BUZZZ!  Wrong answer.  He just listened, said, “Oh.  Okay.”  And went on to ask Tom a question about plans for later in the day.  Good! 

The best part about them knowing is that now I can explain why I need them to do things now instead of two weeks from now.  Plus, if I have to sit down because of the pain or discomfort, they don’t need any explanation.

I think they are happy to hear that I’m going to feel better.  We did tell them that every person that has had the surgery (which, we made sure to stress, was very common), felt so much better and was glad they had it done.  Which could probably be said about liposuction as well, but I digress.

So, I’ve made a good dent in my “To Do Before I Go Under the Knife” list.  I’ve frozen a couple of dishes, bought some easy-to-prepare meals, printed and written down schedules, and started decluttering.  My mom also had me over for this fantastic, delicious, very rich dessert and I had two pieces.  “After all,” I said, “I’m going under the knife.  This could be the last of this dessert I have the rest of my life!”  I can see this surgery thing is going to work out just fine!


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