Last night I suddenly felt myself well up with post-surgery emotion, and I started to cry, and it lasted for about a minute. I think it suddenly hit me, that I had this thing done, and that it was actually really quite scary, and a big deal. That I was unconscious for over an hour, my body and life completely in the hands and abilities of people that I don't know, some anesthesiologist keeping me breathing, this surgeon cutting me open, inserting cameras and tools, removing an organ, glueing me back together. And being in the hospital with an IV in my arm, and my mom taking care of me, and hobbling around and having morphine injected into me. It's all scary. Vanessa is my hero, the way she's so strong and brave in the face of her situation, which is like a million times more intense than my piddly little ordeal.
When I started crying it was also because I felt overwhelmed by love and support and I was staring at Jason and I had one of these moments where I am bowled over by the marrying thing, by my total complete desire to be his wife, and even though that is still a very strange thing to write or say, I feel it completely. And Kim was visiting, wearing these incredibly hot wool sailor pants that she had taken in so the legs were all slim and fitting, not belled; and Jenn and Jeff and Arlo had just left, and Arlo is the cutest, and Jenn and Jeff were adorable with their taking-the-baby-on-a-walk gear; and my mom was wonderful all day, reading the Sunday Times and making banana coffeecake, and hovering and taking care of me; and Louisa and Chuck and Kevin and Mollie came to visit, and Louisa brought flowers (gladiolas), and we all sat and talked and showed Louisa and Chuck the video of Chuck drunk at Coach Sushi. And Aubs was sweet and last night she made me soup.
So for a moment it all overtook me and I felt relieved and grateful and stunned and awed by a combination of everything. And now I am in my recovery chair, and I watched The View and Price is Right and ate yogurt and drank tea and now I will read Frankenstein for a while. Then I will buy a new laptop, send emails, and plan my syllabus. I might also nap, make phone calls, sit in the sun, pet the dog, write, and imagine living in a farmhouse in Marin with my husband. Not bad, this recovery.