“She looks so much different without her gallbladder!”

It has been over a month since I last blogged. The drought is not due to lack of material. I mean, there’s a Logan in my life! He and his sister continue to deserve documentation. It’s actually the material that has kept me from the blog. I don’t generally blog about my personal life. For one thing, it isn’t that interesting, and for another, that’s just not the kind of blog I want to have. I prefer to use this space to expound upon the magic of lesbians, to marvel at the Indigo Girls, to tell the internet about the books I read and the movies I watch, and to gnash my teeth over my beloved General Hospital.

But my real life got in the way. It seems silly to ignore it and go on as if I still have all my organs.

You see, last weekend, I had to have emergency gallbladder surgery. In retrospect, it sounds more interesting than it was, but at the time it felt kind of dire. I was scheduled to get my gallbladder out today, but the situation became more urgent and the thing had to come out. I spent two nights in the hospital, drugged up and out-of-it, and for the record, I am all for health care reform. And, oh, I could tell you some stories about my roommate! Maybe I will someday. I had great people at Lutheran Hospital. Everyone from the orderlies to the nurses to the surgeon was professional and attentive and just good at their jobs, which sometimes involved putting Demerol in my IV.

I am recovering nicely now. I have an impressive bruise that some have likened to art. I considered taking a picture of it and posting it here (it’s THAT impressive), but that would unfortunately involve posting a picture of my flabby stomach so I scrapped that idea. Believe me, it’s better for both of us this way.

In addition to the bruise, my constant companion is my trusty bottle of Vicodin. I know in my head that drugs are bad, but I know in my heart that Vicodin is good. The pain isn’t too bad if I am still, but when I move around a lot, the puncture sites get sore. When I sneeze, it’s the worst. Then there is this burning sensation around the pain.

Too much information? That’s what I thought. Next time I will finish the blog post before I take the Vicodin.