Thursday, March 09, 2006

It's amazing how much that reporting 2 project has been weighing down my life. I spent five hours this afternoon working on the damn thing, but now I'm finally done. I still have a lot of work to catch up on, but I'm going to try to tackle it all without procrastination. It's a bitch.

So I got kind of peeved this evening when I was (in so many words) accused of not being helpful, but then I realized that I wasn't actually being helpful. I think I've been focusing on my own problems too much recently. When my appendicitis came to visit, I started to focus a lot on how I was doing with little to no attention to other people's problems. I'm prone to selfishness, and I guess I need to work on that.

I'm going to work for a little longer and then go to bed.

Monday, March 06, 2006

Today is a banner day.

Today is the first day since my staples were removed that my belly button has not bled into my bandage. I believe this means that the wound has finally closed up and life can return to some degree of normalcy.

Today also marks the day where the shit has begun to fall in on me. All of the work that has piled up during my recovery demands my immediate attention so that I can catch up in my classes.

Today is day one of my two stressful days this week. Tomorrow is day two. Wednesday, although somewhat busy, does not hold as much stress.
It might turn out to be an okay week.

Thursday, March 02, 2006

I always wondered how doctors remove staples from your body. It's a lot like pulling staples out of paper. Granted, the prongs of the staples aren't folded in as far when dealing with human skin, but they still just reach in there, squeeze and the action plucks the staples from your skin. The pain is a lot like pulling hairs. It's a sharp sting that lingers after the staple is gone. The doctor started with the lowest surgical wound first, quickly plucking four staples as I thought, This isn't all that bad. I bit my lip in an effort to hold back the verbal expression of pain. He quickly switched to the two staples that were right above my beltline. Snip snip. Two more metal clasps freed from my dermis. Then he began to dig. The scab and clotted blood held the four staples in my belly button tighter than the other six, and he had to dig into my scab to release the other four. Three deliberate snips, more digging and a final snip freed my skin of its surgical bindings. "See me in two weeks," he said, turning to place the instrument on the counter. "That's it." I pulled my clothing back over my wounds and stood up. The whole process only took a few minutes, but the sound of the staple remover stayed with me while I walked to the car.