off the drugs, high on life

My favorite smoothie:
juiced apple
banana
almond butter
flax seed
one ice cube

Enough of this lazing about, drinking smoothies, and watching TV. I went back to work this week. Since I work from home, it’s not as challenging for me as it would be for someone who has to shower, dress, drive to the office, and sit at the computer all day trying to get some work done while people stop by and ask how they’re feeling. Those people, the ones who work in an office, have to wait…I don’t know…three weeks before they can return? Something like that.

Overall, things are going well. I had some weird swelling that made me look like I had a goiter on my neck. I took a picture and sent it to my friend who works at spine doctor’s office and, get this, Dr. Nice called me himself to talk about it. That’s the second time he’s called me directly. I’ve never talked to a doctor on the phone before. Ever. And now I’ve talked to a doctor twice over the phone and not because I insisted I talk to him but because he called me. #mindblown

Now I’m taking these giant antibiotic horse pills that smell like…sorry, I have to say it…diarrhea. I’m supposed to take them four times a day, which translates to every six hours, but there’s no way in hell I’m getting up at 6am to take a pill, unless that pill is a painkiller (I mean, come on, right?) so I’m taking as many as I can while I am awake, which is sometimes four, sometimes three. But, the lump, which was the size of a small fig is now the size of a pea. It’s always food, isn’t it? Is that to make the grossness and bad news more relatable and friendly? Is it misdirection, like a magician…I mean illusionist?

“Sir, you have a tumor the size of a lemon.” I love lemonade!
“Your cyst is the size of a melon.” Let’s meet for brunch!
“We detected a growth the size of a grape.” What do you say to some wine?

I feel like I may have stolen that riff from David Sedaris.

I stopped wearing the cervical collar over a week ago, so I no longer try to reenact Joan Cusack’s water fountain scene in Sixteen Candles, and I’ll admit I snapped a shot of myself for a friend when I realized how difficult it was for me to eat a bowl of nuts and berries I had procured for a snack and had to balance precariously on my lady shelf.

I still have surgical tape residue stuck to my neck (gross) and I’m having some difficulty swallowing. I’m assuming it’s from the endotracheal they shove down your throat when you have surgery. I, of course, have been referring to it as intubation, only because I watched ER every single Thursday night in the ’90s. I used to wait tables at The Good Table (speaking of brunch) with a regular Thursday night shift. I would drive home after work before my friend Linnea, who also worked at The Good Table, would drive over in her shitty ass Saab (sorry Linnea) and we would head to Amigo’s for the long haul. She showed up one Thursday night and I ran down to the door and waved at her to come inside. I was watching the episode from the first season where this adorable couple comes into the ER because the very pregnant wife has a UTI but it turns out she has eclampsia–what killed [Downton Abbey SPOILER ALERT] Sybil–and I was visibly sobbing when I opened the door to my building.

“What’s wrong??” she asked from the street.

“She’s dying!” I shouted before leaving the door ajar and running back up the stairs.

For those of you who are too young to remember when ER was the most exhausting show to watch because so much happened at once–or, for that matter, for those of you who don’t remember the show ER at all–it’s sort of like Grey’s Anatomy with more action and less…mcdreamysteamy. The hottest guy on the show was George Clooney and let’s face it. He’s funny and all, but he isn’t the be-all and end-all.

But, this episodejeez louise…. It’s almost 20 years later and I still remember it so vividly. I even remember the husband was played by Bradley Whitford, but that could be because I remembered him from Revenge of the Nerds II.

Yes, I can see what I wrote there. Yes. Revenge of the Nerds II. The sequel. Yup. And I just realized the guy from Thirtysomething who played CJ’s boyfriend on West Wing, the show where Bradley Whitford played Josh, was one of the lead nerds. I feel much better after working that out.

Side note: Why are people still making tribute videos to ER?

Second side note: What happened to Bradley Whitford’s face?

sad delicious cake

What were were talking about? Right. I’m off the Oxy and I’m back to work, part time. I can handle sitting at the computer for about two hours (with breaks). Otherwise, my back gets all kinds of angry with me. I took a break from work yesterday and took a walk instead–about 1/4 of a mile, but it was freaking freezing out and most of it was uphill. Both ways.

I strayed from the vegan nonsense while I was recovering from surgery–I ate scrambled eggs and my in-laws visited and cooked up some scallops in butter with cake for dessert–but for the most part I’m sticking to the plan. What bums me out is that I had a perfect excuse to eat what I wanted and the Oxy made everything taste like a tin can. Not fair. Now that I can taste things, it’s lentils and chickpeas again. Which are admittedly delicious if you add kale that’s been sauteed in coconut oil with a giant spoonful of mango chutney plopped next to them. But, I would still choose cake 4 out of 5 times.

For the record, this post took me three days. I might need more recovery time. I think I’ll take Groom’s most recent advice. Literally

Sarah Devlin

About Sarah Devlin

Sarah Devlin has been writing about the recreational industry since the late ’90s but ironically can’t run, swim, or bike a mile.