Tuesday, January 20, 2009


So Monday came and went and before it came the ongoing panic about the probability of my death occuring sometime after 8am Monday morning. It went so far as calling Gail, who happens to be Guidos' secretary, who also happens to be a friend of mine, who has no idea I'm sleeping with her boss, which is why he no longer wishes to deal with any legals for me, legals like, ooh, the guardianship paperwork for me that got me into this whole Sleeping With My Lawyer shit in the first place.


I called her at work while mid Will Die!! freakout last Thursday, and impressed upon her the privilege it is to be able to speak to a friend about a professional manner because I do NOT want to put her in an uncomfortable position bla bla bla, BUT, could she please do SOMETHING or make a note SOMEWHERE so that, in the event, my son does NOT go to my asshole brother (the dickhead currently listed as Daniel's guardian but who has made NO effort whatsoever in any way shape or form to be in his life despite agreeing to BE in his life so that, in the event, it would be a seamless transition from one house to the other, AND been a total fuckhead to me during a very, very sad time of my life) and instead DOES go to YB, who happens to be Daniel's favorite child care worker who loves him very very much?

But she said she had to talk to Guido, so I was all "Oh, okay. FINE", because by then it was only HOURS since I'd poured my heart out to him and, GAH.

Then I think I hung up and cried or something equally as constructive.

Then Sunday night I sent her another desperate email so that SOMEONE knew I sang All My Loving to Daniel every night at bedtime while I was alive, could SOMEONE continue to do so after my death? Then I wrote a card for YB and gave her Gail's number to call because Gail has all the details and is all lawyer-y and such, and then I made other notes to pack in my overnight bag about who to call and who Daniel was to go to and, what? I was about to DIE, y'all. DON'T JUDGE.


I didn't die so how red faced do I feel now? Try this much [-------infinity-------]

I was meant to stay overnight and organised things with YB for Daniel to stay with her (forever, if circumstances required) as such, but actually got to go home yesterday, not even three hours after leaving the operating theatre, and only two after I regained consciousness. I was over an hour IN theatre, which is kind of a long time, so that and the massive swelling suggests to me that the plates were pretty much embedded with my skull.

and half my readership just fainted.

Daniel came home with me last night, and was most miffed to not be visiting the YB compound.

And I'm mostly okay. In the midst of the usual post anaesthetic downer so kind of emotionally, how shall I say it? Fucked? Yeah, that about describes it. I feel like if I didn't have Daniel, I'd throw myself off a cliff because everything seems so hopeless. I'm restless, I can't eat or sleep, I don't want to be alone and yet am so, so very alone, which is why I wish to throw myself off a cliff.

This is the part of surgery I hate even more than the whole Fear Of Dying thing. That lasts until I don't die, The Downer lasts for AGES. Weeks, MONTHS even.

(as an aside, the Fear Of Dying thing is a CONSTANT, regardless of any pending operating theatre time, but is less terrifying now that I've at least verbally and via email made note of my dying wishes ie my brother = XXX + skull + crossbones. YB's house FOREVAH)

(another aside is that I don't wish to keep Daniel from his rightful guardian ie his father, forever. I believe though, that it shouldn't be something as technically simple as my death to allow that man complete access to a child that doesn't know him, doesn't love him, and has had nothing to do with him AT ALL for the last six months, and minimal interaction with him for the years before that. The intention of all the wishes and whatnots in my will is so that Daniel's father will need to work some before he's handed the virtual keys to Daniel's life and living arrangements)

Physically though, things went well, especially seeings as how that dying thing didn't pan out.

However, my idiot surgeon (best in the world by reputation, and YET) fucked it AGAIN, and did a soft tissue graft to my LEFT cheek after I specifically said, "uh, no, RIGHT cheek only" only minutes before I met him again in the surgical suite, at which time HE said "and we're doing a graft to this cheek (indicates right) and THIS cheek (indicates left)". Despite clarifying the details with him then, I really wanted to avoid ANOTHER incident where I wake up to something I didn't quite expect, so confirmed with his nurse "RIGHT cheek only, right?" as we were literally sitting outside the theatre, and she was all, "check on that, I remember the notes at the consult. Right cheek only, yes", then AGAIN, if I recollect correctly but don't quote me, thanks to the sleepy drugs, to someone INSIDE the OR. Kirsten? Dr Sleepy Drugs? WHO KNOWS?


Here I am with a tissue graft in my LEFT JAWLINE, when I already am not over in amorata about my jawline, and NO ONE even mentioned a graft to my JAWLINE.

Especially not ME, which is what he told his Personal Assistant when she passed on the question to him when I called his rooms yesterday to ask "LEFT JAWLINE WTF?!1!??".

He told her "she asked for it immediately prior to surgery".


Five (seventeen?) operations with this guy and EVERY SINGLE ONE I've woken up to a little "surprise".

I look like Minnie Driver on the left side of my face, and the right side is so painfully swollen it looks like if it swelled anymore, my head would explode like an overinflated balloon. The swelling is already subsiding though, as this morning when I woke up, I couldn't quite close my mouth on the right side, and now I can.

and as for Daniel, he's in childcare again today, and because all involved were so bitterly disappointed about the whole Going Home With YB, her husband, her son, AND her three Japanese boarders going arse up, he's going home with her tonight for a play and some dinner, so I'll be going to get him at around 7.30.

I reckon we'll organise a sleepover for him too for another day, if I ever have a good reason to want the night off, which AS IF?

Meanwhile, I'm puttering around at home wanting to throw myself off a cliff about THAT too.

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