I Am Not An Animal

Okay, I have had it with the Chinese. The corporate Chinese. Of course, I've had with all the corporates everywhere but I am just ranting about two particular Chinese items right now...Surgical tape and gauze. So I sent Will to the drugstore to get some tape and gauze for my dressing. (Dressing...you know, I realize that every time I leave the house for a walk or to go to the market (which is pretty much what my life is right now) I seem to be dressed very much like a hobo. You remember hobos. They pre-date homeless people by a couple of decades. Hobos were more "romantic" than the poor homeless people out there now. Riding the rails from city to city, who knows if that's true. But I always thought of them as happy people who made a choice not to join the rat race.)

Anyway, back to my tape. Will brings home the tape and gauze, both made in China. Now, the gauze the hospital gave me was 100% cotton and the tape...stuck. This Chinese gauze is polyester and the tape is stickless. Useless. I tried to stick it in my hair, I tried to stick it on the wall. I tried to stick it on the dog, I tried to stick it on my shoe. I tried to stick it on a tree. I tried to stick it on a squirrel...(Is this the definition of stir crazy?)

Oh my God, I have to get out of here. But I did have epiphany number three hundred and eight two. (And that's because I spend half of my time in my mind and seem to be epiphanizing constantly due to lack of brain cells.) Anyway, I figured out why I wake up a bit blue and out of sorts everyday. Now I know you're thinking of course I'd be out of sorts because I just had major surgery. But I also woke up out of sorts BEFORE I had surgery and the antidote for that was...SWIMMING! I would not wake up feeling happy and ready to conquer until after I swam. And had my chai tea latte and took my million vitamins, which I can no longer take because I can't swallow pills. So there we have it. Until I can swim again I'm just going to have to crawl out of bed and curse the world and get on with no stimulant of any kind. Is life really worth living with no stimulant? I'll let you know in a couple of weeks.

I may not blog everyday until I am at full strength. I want to, believe me, I want to. But each little thing takes a certain amount of energy and I used to have this load of energy in the morning or mid day and I could not wait to let it all lose on the page. but now just thinking about what to eat next takes a certain amount of that energy and I don't want to sit down with an empty head, which is how my head feels at this very moment while I write. Because half of my brain, the half that is facing the kitchen, is thinking about my Goddamn (thank you Sally Field) dinner. My nickel sized piece of fish and maybe one roasted potato. With no stimulant!! No beverage.

And then there's the shower. Now, the shower part is fun. But then I have to get out and change the bandages over the, not the scar from the operation, but the one where the feeding tube is sticking out of my...INTESTINE! Is that a Corman movie image or what? I have to take the "dressing" off and pretend that it is not MY stomach I'm looking at with a foreign object protruding from it and carefully clean and recover the "wound" with tape that won't stick! I tried to stick it on my sink, I tried to stick it on my...Did we go over this before?

I'd better stop now. You know, I probably should have gone to Calcutta. Met a little Calcutta man wearing colorful cloth. Or, wait a minute, I should have become a hobo...ess. A hoboess. Ride those rails, even if they are Amtrack.

I think I'll just take another shower.