Post Surgery Blues

I Ain't Thought It'd Be Like This

I’ve been thinking about my time in the hospital a lot. The beeps, the lights, the amazing painkiller drugs, the human drama, the pretty nurse who wheeled me out of the surgery room.

I was so whacked out of my gourd, I actually said to her “You’re really pretty. Please don’t tell my girlfriend I said that.” It’s a little embarrassing, but hey there’s worse things to say to a nurse I suppose.

I knew I was going into surgery for a long while, so it was easy to have that be the predominant worry. Now that it’s gone, my brain has been out of whack since I got back. My anxiety has been cranked up to about 8 or 9. My ADHD has been loony tunes. Even with Vyvanse it’s hard to concentrate on anything. Especially anything important. I barely touched my novel, and starting my masters is both an imminent threat and a century away.

When this happens. Things get weird. I start researching and obsessing over stupid shit. The most recent, are bonsai trees. Yes. I was obsessed with the thought of owning, and raising a bonsai tree.

I’m not saying getting some cheap ass shrub from Home Depot, and watering it occasionally. I’m saying getting an honest to God bonsai tree train and shape and stuff. Just like in the Karate Kid.

Of course when I obsess over getting stupid like that, you know I have to have it. I found a lovely asian nursery in my neighborhood. Forty bucks later, she trimmed it down a bit, repotted it, and now I have a baby bonsai that I named Miyagi.

The other obsessions have been getting a scooter, or a Honda Cub, my own health, bike touring (both on the Erie Canal and the East Coast Greenway), and learning Kung Fu (actually Wing Chun).

That’s not to mention the obsession for getting the perfect everything ready for grad school which is both starting tomorrow and 100 years from now.

It’s all fun and games until the anxiety kicks in, and boy howdy does it. It just won’t stop. Is my body going to betray me again? Will I need to go back to surgery? Is work mad at me because I had to leave for two weeks? Did I miss a step along the way? Am I? Is this it? Am I fucking up? Will I be fucking up if I never took the medical leave off?

The lexapro is keeping the panic attacks down to a minimum, but they’re there, waiting under the surface.

This I suppose is depression. It’s been an old friend to me, for almost as long as ADHD. One might have invited the other to the party my spicy brain was throwing. I know, unless there’s a radical evolution in treatment it’s always going to be that way.

I can live with it. I’ve been getting better at handling it in the past couple of years. I just hope it calms down soon this time around.