I've been disemboweled! Technically!

So they got me into surgery and took out my gallbladder. The anesthetic doc told me to "pick a nice dream" and so I thought of someone. In a bikini. A moment or two later I was coming to back in my room and was right back to coordinating with my dear friend Anna about getting in on time. Luckily I gave her info to the hospital beforehand to make it easier for her to make it in.

My body ached in a lot of places, I was in more pain than I expected to be, even having had abdominal surgery before. My Dad told me once that the body doesn't really like hanging on to memories of physical pain, so even the same kinds of wounds will feel much worse even if you've had them before.

They had to pump some air into my body to make some space for the robot to do its work. The excess air ends up causing a great deal of pain in my chest and shoulders that I think exceeds any pain from the incisions or the removal itself.

I've got some pretty cool scars, really gnarly. And y'know, GWAR would have to take me in now, even if the scent of blood just makes them want to devour me whole. I'm a real Tzimisce now, not just a pedant about courtesy. Long live the new flesh!

Well I guess there isn't any new flesh. I've lost an organ. Part of me can't help but feel it took a bullet meant for my liver. There could be a thousand reasons why it went the way it did. My Mom constantly reminds me that without her I can't take care of myself, and so it's a little unreal for so many medical professionals to constantly remind me of how good my health was, gallbladder notwithstanding. But that's how she tries to control people around her. I think she lived through a famine in her youth during the Korean War.

But the truth is I do an alright job of taking care of myself. I could watch my diet a bit more to reduce my fat intake, and I could def stand to cook for myself more, but my labs all came back that whatever I was doing I was doing it well. I'm sure that all the exercise I give myself is a big contributor.

But it occurs to me now how much I carry that idea around that I'm unhealthy when there's minimal evidence for that. Though I probably should eat some other kind of protein aside from salami and add more veggies. And it makes me angry to notice yet another repeated lie from my Mom designed to erode me in some way. I realized early in life I couldn't trust her, but it just feels like I am constantly discovering new ways in which her mental condition is dangerous to be around.

Having to be an expert in psychology and mental health is annoying. Luckily my interest in human behavior lends itself well to absorbing information and figuring out strategies for dealing with it. Still, I find so much anger for how much of myself needs to be dedicated to her because she is unable to regulate her own emotions and doesn't see anything wrong with her own behavior. A long time ago, I made a choice to be there for her, but I've also had to accept that her shitty life is her own fault despite her constant blaming of anyone in arm's reach.

So they gave me percocet. I've been a little worried about the inevitability of coming into contact with painkillers again. The results this time are: disinterest.

I'm not sure how much it's reducing the pain in the first place. The aching in my abdomen is just a little worse than the constant anxiety I've been feeling for a while, which might have been related to the gallbladder in the first place. The occasional pain from the air escaping into my shoulders is extremely sharp and grueling, and the drugs don't seem to do anything about its comings and goings. The feelings of lightness it gave to my anxiety are fleeting, momentary, and ultimately not terribly interesting. Whatever hole in my soul it was fitting in before seems to have been filled.

I'm finding myself angry at how much time I've felt looking at myself as some pathetic creature that needs to be coddled and can't make my own way through. I've got a lot of community and that's well and good but I'm not the drain that so many elements in my life try to convince me that I am.

I went to college to make myself a more capable person, and a big part of that is being able to evaluate what is real and what is not. My Mom depends heavily on folk wisdom and gut feelings and is generally led by her insecurity to try and control every person close to her by employing those superstitions. I am ultimately wary of individuals who have demonstrated a willingness to ignore the evidence of their eyes and ears in order to facilitate a reality they'd rather live in, because individuals like that always seek to force others to live in that same reality. They have to.

So I'll have to lay off my workouts for two weeks, which is annoying. I needed to rest my left shoulder anyway and this will hopefully give it the time it needs to get back on track. Hopefully I'll be able to get back on track for summer- I was sort of hoping to show off at the lake sometime.

In the future, I hope to be able to see myself more objectively, and not constantly bathed in the baggage of the past and people who depend on me seeing myself as less-than. And I think the lesson here is that I should visit the doctor a little more often. After all, my own eyes and ears aren't always going to be enough to correctly evaluate every situation. Belief and trust are rare commodities in my reality, but that isn't any way to live.

Welp I'm going to take one of these boring ass pills and fall asleep. See if maybe the world is a little better when I wake up.