My Bloody Valentine
As others spent a good deal of money on jewelry, flowers, and a fancy gourmet meal at Red Lobster impressing a girl who turned out wasn't even going to put out at the end of the night, as some lost themselves in front of their tvs alone watching Sleepless in Seattle surrounded by boxes of chocolate, and as a lucky few sat at a bar for hours getting loaded on RedBull and Vodka only to wake up the next morning in a stranger's apartment loaded with fertilized twin embyros, I, on the other hand, spent my Valentines weekend doped up in a hospital bed slipping in and out of conciousness. However, I wasn't going to let pain, extreme drowsiness and 3/4 shaved legs spoil my holiday spirit. During one 12-hour shift, I had a rather cute male nurse take care of me. Nurse Jeremy. Every time he would walk into the room I would silently ask/sign my mother, "How do I look?" Because with my bloodied-up gauze turban that kept falling apart along with the blood crust, stitches, bruises, and dirt patches that covered up most of my face, I knew I was looking good.
After surgery, I'd been left with a freshly new incision on the rib just underneath my right breast. Needless to say, I was more than okay with allowing him access to check if everything was healing properly from time to time. "Please, by all means". Who am I to keep the man from doing his job? Unfortunately, it's a week later and I have absolutely NO RECOLLECTION to what Nurse Jeremy looked like. I seriously do not remember; be it the trauma, the drugs, or an entire figment of my immagination. All I do know is that he made my Valentine's Day worth while.
For whatever reason, I was naive enough to believe they weren't going to shave my head this time. Before going in, my hair had finally evened out andgotten to a length I really liked. Now it appears I'm one diabolical plan from becoming Mr Burns. (Not-so excellent) I look like a man with a grand receding hairline; gripping onto the follicles that halo around his head. It's hard to let go but not so much for me. As I heal up, I'm going to cut it all off again and start anew. I wear bandanas and scarves now.
I'm unhappy.
For years, I've twisted things around here on LJ or to my friends IT'S SO CHEAP.
** I wanted to mention, in my last entry I went on a bit of selfish rant on how over the years I never receieve Get Well flowers anymore. Well, not only did she stop by with a bouquet but Meghan also gave me a pretty bag of Valentines Dat candy when I got home last week. Thank you, dear. It means more to me than you will ever know. I love it.
Also, something as silly as Maggy tagging me in a rather great photo in facebook really cheered me up. Thanks to you as well. Loves it! That's my dream weave.
After surgery, I'd been left with a freshly new incision on the rib just underneath my right breast. Needless to say, I was more than okay with allowing him access to check if everything was healing properly from time to time. "Please, by all means". Who am I to keep the man from doing his job? Unfortunately, it's a week later and I have absolutely NO RECOLLECTION to what Nurse Jeremy looked like. I seriously do not remember; be it the trauma, the drugs, or an entire figment of my immagination. All I do know is that he made my Valentine's Day worth while.
For whatever reason, I was naive enough to believe they weren't going to shave my head this time. Before going in, my hair had finally evened out andgotten to a length I really liked. Now it appears I'm one diabolical plan from becoming Mr Burns. (Not-so excellent) I look like a man with a grand receding hairline; gripping onto the follicles that halo around his head. It's hard to let go but not so much for me. As I heal up, I'm going to cut it all off again and start anew. I wear bandanas and scarves now.
I'm unhappy.
For years, I've twisted things around here on LJ or to my friends IT'S SO CHEAP.
** I wanted to mention, in my last entry I went on a bit of selfish rant on how over the years I never receieve Get Well flowers anymore. Well, not only did she stop by with a bouquet but Meghan also gave me a pretty bag of Valentines Dat candy when I got home last week. Thank you, dear. It means more to me than you will ever know. I love it.
Also, something as silly as Maggy tagging me in a rather great photo in facebook really cheered me up. Thanks to you as well. Loves it! That's my dream weave.