I’ve written before about the importance of getting updates from people in your life, and the connection that they can build between you.
You can click here to read what I had to say about it back in November of last year.
Now, six months later, I’m kind of feeling the same about almost everything I said back then… with three exceptions.
First, I am one of those people who cheered at the news that the series, Three Pines (Prime Video), based on Louise Penny’s Gamache books was cancelled.
I watched the entire series, held onto hope that it would get better, but sadly it just got worse for me. Also, the latest book in the series, A World of Curiosities, started off great, but left me frustrated and disagreeing with a decision the main character made because it felt so… so… so… out of character for him. And yet, I’m eagerly awaiting the next book in the series. Yep, I’m in DEEP with these books and people characters… and that’s probably why I disliked the TV series that let them down.
Second, my neighbour has replaced his ever-running leaf blower with his lawnmower and weed whacker to drown out the evening bird calls…
Third…
I had my tonsillectomy!
Woohoo!
[Read the next two sentence in a sing-song voice]
Those suckers are medical waste! Those suckers are medical waste!
However, I do not recommend being immunocompromised, (and still wearing a mask indoors always and outdoors if its crowded) and then spending 11 hours in the hospital on the day an email gets sent to the staff saying that wearing a mask would be optional in a few days because the hospital is changing their policy.
It’s a special kind of hell.
Some nurses caring for me were celebrating. Some were absolutely not celebrating. Others were unsure how they felt about the news and what they would choose. And lucky me was stuck in a bed right near where many nurses congregated to gossip, complain and declare their preferences and concerns.
I had to listen to one nurse continually compliment her colleagues “cute noses” because they, like her, wore their surgical masks only over their mouth. To her, only [certain race and ethnicities] had “cute noses”.
Like I said: A. Special. Kind. Of. Hell.
And then I was too busy trying not to faint that I didn’t even try to ask the two nurses who repeatedly told me I had “good veins” but failed, multiple attempts, to start my IV, if they could hoist their masks up a little higher. I still have the scars on both my hands and wrists. They are sucky hospital mementos.
Thankfully I regained enough energy a few hours after my surgery to ask another nurse to actually put on a mask when she came over to take my vitals without one. She did and I hated that I had to ask.
My anesthesiologist made me laugh and he asked opened ended questions instead of assuming he knew more about my body and autoimmune disease, then I did.
He also scared the hell out of me because he put in an emergency request for me to have a neck x-ray because of my rheumatoid arthritis. Apparently, RA can cause instability in the cervical spine, and because of the way my surgeon would need to tilt my head during my tonsillectomy, they hoped the radiologist would notify them of any risks so they could decide how to proceed.
Me: “So, you want to make sure that my head and neck won’t become disconnected… in some way… right?… Because that sounds like.. it would… be… bad.”
Anesthesiologist: “… uhm. Basically.”
While I appreciated his thoroughness, I had to use all my calming exercises, and breathing techniques while waiting for the results that, in my mind, would decide what may or may not happen next.
Hours later, my anesthesiologist bounced into my curtained cubby to tell me that “everything’s fine” before I got wheeled down to the OR.
My head and neck remained attached.
Two grape popsicles that I had after my surgery were the highlights of my time in post-op. For some reason, weak ass, artificial grape flavour tasted like an icy heaven on a fluffy cloud while I was groggy after surgery.
Recovery since than has been interesting. Slow… but interesting.
I’ve experienced some relief. Became addicted to fudgesicles and creamsicles for a few weeks. And I continue to be lovingly smothered by cats.
It also brings me great joy to share that this fucker was so, so very wrong! I never ended up with a “bad bleed” that would forced me back into the hospital like he was convinced would happen to me. (Thank goodness!)
I’m grateful to my family doctor who gave me a realistic timeline and warned me to get it into my head that I’d likely be looking at a three-week recovery timeframe. It helped me plan. And my surgery date ended up landing on a day just before the three quiet weeks I had already booked on my calendar in the hopes that the timing would work out.
And my doctor’s warning became a constant reality check in my mind when I wasn’t back to “feeling normal” within 7-10 days of my surgery like the nurses at the hospital and my surgeon said I would.
I didn’t start to feel more like myself until I reached week four.
Although, I’m coming up on six weeks, and it still hurts to yawn.
At my three-week post-op appointment, my ENT told me that “things are healing nicely” and that it would be a “while” before I felt 100%. When I asked her to clarify what she meant by “nicely” and a “while”, she just repeated the words. Le sigh. Fingers crossed she’ll be more expressive when I see her again in six months.
But, this will be my last update to you about my tonsillectomy.
Mainly because I’m so sick of talking/writing about it.
Don’t get me wrong, writing about it helped me navigate this long and winding road to get to my tonsillectomy. It brought me hours of enjoyment trying to write something that would make me feel a little lighter. It was an added bonus that you seemed to enjoy what came out of those attempts, too.
But no one wants to hear me talk/write about anything I don’t want to really talk/write about anymore. There’s no joy in that.
I’m also tired of dealing with people* using my experiences to convince me of the benefits of privatizing healthcare here in Ontario, Canada. (*My experience has been that it’s usually someone who has never been sick for an extended period. Or they’ve never tried to navigate the medical system as anyone other than a person who has white skin, and/or is cisgender, and/or hetero, and/or isn’t poor, and/or isn’t fat, and/or non-disabled. It’s an energy suck to have to deal with. Especially not knowing if engaging in a discussion is even worthwhile.)
And the months leading up to my surgery, and post-op have not been pleasant or easy.
I’ve only shared a few of my stories. The ones that I’m able to talk or write about so far. I’m still processing everything. There’s a lot that I don’t want to revisit now. And definitely, not publicly. (But holy hell, do I ever have a heap of fodder to feed a horror story or two… or four.)
Just know that I’m healing. And healing is a process that will take as long as it’s going to take. I’m alright and I will be alright.
I appreciate all the well-wishes, cards, and messages that I’ve received to check in on me and to offer good thoughts. Thank you.
And, often when I’ve endured a mucky journey, like the one that I just did, it ends up helping me realize that I’m ready to make some changes.
Like saying goodbye to my visual journaling course.
So here’s my first big change:
Exploring Creative Connection Through Visual Journaling will retire next year on May 15, 2024.
From now until the beginning of next April, a special “retirement price” is in effect.
You’ll receive immediate access to all course material from the time of your purchase until May 15, 2024.
I had previously offered this course live for several years, and then made it an online course a few years ago. I have enjoyed each iteration for very different reasons, but now it’s time to make another shift.
While I’m not 100% sure what that will look like yet, I am certain that it’s time for this course, in it’s current form, to say adiós.
There will be three virtual gatherings for this online course between now and next May. We’ll be meeting next month in June, then again in October of this year, with the last one taking place next February. These gatherings are where we reinvigorate ourselves while we create in community, and answer any and all questions you have about your creative practice.
Creating and offering this course has brought me together with hundreds of people over the years. We’ve laughed, shared wisdom, and of course, we’ve made fun messes!
It doesn’t matter if you consider yourself an artist, a writer, or a creative of any kind.
People walk away with techniques that help them move past their fear so that their words and images flow faster onto the page. They aren’t letting past criticism keep them from creating and now they’re making their own rules.
And let’s not forget that it can be a great way to help you avoid burning out.
I know exactly what a participant means when they share how journaling has saved their life. It’s something I’ve said myself. Even made a module in my course about it.
And while this course will go away next year, visual journaling will forever be a part of my creative practice. It’s helped me tune into how and when my needs and wants change. It’s helped me connect information so I could see another side of a situation and therefore make a better decision. I’ve even written stories based on ideas that popped into my head while I was visual journaling. And these stories make my heart happy because they’ve made members of my writing group break out into laughter and tears.
Visual journaling is one of the best ways for me to get out of my overanalyzing mind and move my body and spirit so I feel revitalized.
It has helped me explore my connection to myself, my creativity and trust, my family, friends, and the changing world we live in.
It also helps me realize when it’s time to say goodbye to something and move on.
Like now.
If you’re interested in joining me in the last few months of Exploring Creative Connection Through Visual Journaling, click this link and sign up!
Don’t forget to tell your friends, too!
(If you’d like to be a part of this course, but the “retirement price” would negatively affect your current financial situation to the point where you’d have to sacrifice your needs, such as food, shelter, water, electricity, etc., please email me. I’m happy to work with you so we can find an alternate price, or exchange, that will work for the both of us. Unfortunately, I’m not able to offer full scholarships at this time.)
Alright, time to get back to thinking about some other changes I’ll be making.
Thanks for reading.
Enjoy the rest of your day,
PS. Loudermilk (Prime Video) kept me company while I was recuperating in bed. I ended up watching season one, then three and eventually two a while after it finally got added to Prime. I was grateful for the delay because season two made me laugh out loud, which would have hurt too much if I had watched it earlier. I can be a sucker for a show that brings together an odd mix of characters and their quirks but also has some heart.
PPS. I’ve only watched the first episode of The Offer (Paramount+) so far, but I’m already hooked. I was fascinated by The Godfather book and movie when I was a teen. And while The Offer is based on a producer’s recollection of the making of the movie, and not everyone agrees with it, it’s an entertaining recollection. The actors are great, the characters are amazing.
PPPS. May we all be surprised and delighted when the words “I didn’t know I could do that” slip out of our mouth sooner rather than later. Read Failure, Patience, and Joy: Tania James on What It Means to Be a Writer to understand what I mean.
Olwen, great to hear you are on the mend. Healing, on all the levels, is profound and annoying. If something can be those two things at the same time. Take good care and thank you for sharing you.