"It could be worse," I whisper—a mantra so overused lately it's as pointless as a dried out, sun rotted rubber band, the one that falls into as many pieces as Patsy Cline's poor broken heart.
Funny how a couple of weeks can feel like an eternity. It's like I'm 15.95 years old, itching to get my driver's license, or like the time my high school girlfriend had to go on summer vacation with her parents to Washington DC. As the Superglue that welds my incision slowly begins to flake away, I can almost hear Karen Carpenter crooning from her anorexic grave, "We've only just begun…"
For a restless roamer to have his lifeblood outdoor activities curtailed to pretty much breathing, eating, and sleeping, well, it's like losing the reason to wake up every morning. It's like being put out to "pasture" when you can still run. The only thing missing from my "nursing-home" is the smell of urine. Who knows, maybe that's next.
So far, the only exercise I get beyond padding around the kitchen island is the occasional cough or sneeze… something that could have me spelling "disaster" with the alphabet soup I had for lunch. You see, a cough or sneeze puts a force of over 200 pounds per square on your lower abdominal area. Not so good when the only things holding one's insides in are a few fancy stitches.
For those of you who have not had the pleasure of a hernia yet, all it takes is one weak spot and it's a blowout waiting to happen. Think about that the next time you come down with a hacking cough or next spring when your allergies flare. That's how and when most hernias take place (achoo!).
So yeah, ten whole days down and only about 50 more to go till I can begin to ramp up to my former reckless, but wonderful, lifestyle. In the meantime you'll find me eating Scrap Cookies while catching up on Dr Phil an Ellen, and falling to pieces to the tattered love-lifes in Days of Our Lives (Yikes! Aiden is assaulted, Paige demands to know what JJ was doing at Kyle's, and Marlena learns John's been keeping something from her). If you happen to catch me watching Jerry Springer, just go ahead and shoot me.
Here's a few photos from Ms Guide Noir's hike to Columbine Lake with Gang members Chris and Suzanne. Now if you will excuse me, I may have just wet my pants…