...and I can't tell you why. But some good things are starting to happen, finally. We're moving towards the up part of the cycle, for which I am grateful. For a while, I was wondering if there was an up side to be found.
Jim's been hired to work for americanmuscle.com, a company that sells performance Mustang parts over the phone. He'll get his own cubicle, make fair money, and work good hours. He's excited, and I am, too. This sounds like it'll be a good opportunity for Jim, and a decent place to work, too. Jim's glad to be done searching, too. He's been trying really hard to stay positive, but I can tell he was worried. They're even fine with Jim taking his fourth of fifth day off of work to be at the hospital on the 8th. The only down side to that is that I'll be spending a lot of time after my operation at the house alone, but I have some friends who will come up and get me juice and remind me to eat.
Speaking of the surgery, I'm a bit frustrated. Because I have two surgeons, I have to sign two sets of consent paperwork. I have to drive to Philadelphia, at least a forty minute drive, to wait an hour or so to see my doctor, to spend fifteen minutes confirming that yes, I know what's going to happen and signing paperwork. It has to be done in person, in the doctor's office, or they won't operate on me. I understand the need to cover themselves legally, but well, I know what this operation entails. I know that it's a serious thing, and I know what the possibilites are. I have already signed off on this, and it just frustrates me to have to waste and entire morning sorting out two pages of paperwork. Weren't computers supposed to make paperwork a thing of the past?
Work has been pretty rough, too, since I'm just being reminded why I hate my job so much. Still, I only have a few days left to deal with all the drama and all the angry people, and then I have eight weeks to worry about other things and get ready to look for a new job again. I can make it! I'm trying to keep using Tylenol to take the edge off of my chest pain while I'm at work, but it's just not doing the trick. My doctor's office gave me something new to try, and I don't think I'm a fan. It still makes me dizzy, and it left me hungover this morning, since I took some not too long before bed last night. I'm trying to control the pain as well as I can, since Melissa the intrepid nurse tells me that if your pain isn't under control before an operation, it's much more difficult to control afterwards.
It makes me a little sad that I've learned so much about pain lately. It has its own language, its own set of rules. You have to learn to talk about your pain, to analyze it. Is it throbbing? Stabbing? Pulsing? How long does it last? Are there triggers? How does it rate? Doctors and nurses ask you continually about pain, they tell you not to be brave or to tough it out. To admit that you hurt and how you hurt. I never make a secret of it when I'm in pain, but it's still strange to talk about pain, to get to know it, to recognize it as part of you. Something about all that makes me feel old.
It's getting a little late, and I should get to sleep soon so I'm rested up for another long day tomorrow. I hope the last couple of days between you and the weekend go quickly and smoothly.