Sunday, June 16, 2013

Part 2


Post-Op Day 8

I had a couple of visitors today.  Look at me being all civilised and human!  I tried my best to doll myself up.  Until now I've been living in socks and a blanket with a hot water bottle tied to my stomach.  Wearing clothes was a big step forward.

 I didn't bring your breakfast, because you didn't eat your din-din!

I feel my efforts, may have missed the mark.
Slept for about 1/2 an hour.  A good day.

Post-Op Day 9
Sleep deprivation is starting to get to me.  Yawning is completely out of the question due to raw flesh RIPPING at the back of my throat and yet once I've stifled one I feel like I'm trying to hold back on 10 at once.  How can one master the art of yawning by not yawning?  Why hasn't anyone figured that one out, huh?

I accidentally find myself falling asleep on the couch.  I wake in a puddle of drool, gagging and in pain.  This will not do!  It's time to get tough - if sleep doesn't happen at night, then it can just forget it!  We'll see who comes out on top.

Snap out of it!

I spend the rest of the day listening to Carole King and contemplating the deeper meaning of life (I had the answer... but forgot), thanking Xenu I don't have to deal with a wet day timetable at work and weeping silently because of the pain. 

Post-Op Day 10

I visit Dr Wink-Dimples today. I've become obsessed with the image of him prancing around living a normal family life after inflicting such damage on me.  I consider packing a prison shank (a shiv?) to take with me to give him a taste of his own medicine.

He winks hello and then proceeds to vacuum my nose.  I feel this is the way forward for humanity from now on.  This is our next step in human evolution.  This is what the ENTs have been using while we've been battling with Kleenex.  I almost ask for the model number.  By the time he finishes off I've completely forgotten to shank him in the tonsils.  You'll live Dimples, you'll live.

open up.

I've noticed that the more I can speak... the less amicable my relationship with Florence Henderson is.  Now that I have a voice I can argue that for instance, driving over two lanes of traffic on Victoria Parade isn't the best move...  That may be a foolish conversation starter on my part though.  I may have a voice, but I'm still pretty much an invalid and we wouldn't want a bad situation to develop, would we?

It's the swearing, Paul. It has no nobility.

Perhaps had I talked less and been in delirium more often my teenage years would have gone a lot more smoothly.  Food for thought.

Post-Op Day 11

Today I make my first trip into the outside world with normal everyday humans.  My boss is getting married and there fore it's time for me to crack open the Revlon Colour Stay.  I look a treat.

Of course I feel fine.

I feel okay.  I can talk.  I can move.. I carry around a water bottle and sip from it annoyingly every 30 seconds.  I am almost human now and yet people seem surprised to see me.  Perhaps it's the make up.  I'd have to be dead not to turn up, seriously. I survive until the dizziness ensues and then make my hasty exit.

Sleep is still the main area of my life that is no happening.  I'm afraid to do it because it's painful and I wake up with drool everywhere.  Confession time folk, I have taken to wearing a bib while sleeping.    It's the only way to protect my sheets from the Niagara Falls like deluge that escapes from my mouth every night.

no more whoopsies!

I may not be very attractive right now but I am nothing if not prepared.

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