Yesterday was the absolute best I’ve felt since the surgery.

I can tell I’m on the upswing because my mind is going a million miles a minute and it’s making lists. My body wants so badly to keep up with it but I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m now officially climbing the walls and plotting my escape. In less than a week I’ll be able to drive again and tomorrow I might actually hide my “pocketbook” under some pants and go out for date night. It’ll be our little secret. BAHAHAHAHA! I’m living ca-raaaazy!

I just looked at the calendar and realized it’s been exactly 6 weeks since I found out about The Cansuh, can you believe that? I can’t. I simply can’t believe how much has happened over the past 6 weeks. The extreme ups and downs. How quickly life can go from completely normal to completely turned upside down.

Back in the 80′s there was a doll called “Pretty Crimp and Curl,” do you remember it? I think my sister may have had it but forever since, anytime we refer to the pampering of ourselves, we call it “playing Pretty Crimp and Curl.”

Yesterday my mom and I played pretty crimp and curl. She’s been here all week and I’ve been in sort of a funk.

So we decided it was time for us to get all girlie on ourselves and try out some fake eyelashes. We’ve always wanted to try them out and feel glamorous like a Kardashian or Adele, who wears 4 pairs, or so I’ve heard.

So I showered, only this time I dried my hair which is a huge feat because I usually just pile my wet hair back into a bun on my head, and then we put on our makeups.

Makeup-free is not really a good look for me. I'm all red and splotchy under there.

Isn’t my mom cute?

She bought us some false lashes.

Hers were real hair which I don’t know how to feel about that. Also they were on clearance for two bucks and she got them six years ago. This is how long we’ve wanted to do this.

We applied them and it took a while. It’s not as easy as I thought to line these up perfectly with my eyelid.

But this is how it turned out.

What do you think?

My mom’s turned out great, she looked so pretty afterward.

So happy.

I’m thankful for my mom. Have I mentioned that?

This is her seductress look. Or Blue Steel. *snicker*

It was nice to feel human again, after feeling like a science experiment.

This was the very first time that I have felt like this phase of my life is going to be exactly that. A phase. A phase that will soon be over.

I can already see the horizon out there. The Cansuh is an open and shut case and I’m ready to close the door.

As I sit here now, there he is, belly large and bloated.

Shoving seed after seed into his tiny toothy piehole while dining at the bird feeder buffet.

Taunting me with every little whisker twitch as I watch him.

His tiny little paws up by his chubby cheeks, gnawing away, eating quite possibly the entire bird feeder worth of seeds.

With every seed the fury within me grows.

I clearly have too much time on my hands. 

At first I’d bang on the glass and they’d jump a mile and flee. But now, full well knowing that the banging is nary a threat, they mock me as I bang away and they continue to eat, without even looking up. Probably thinking It’s just that crazy lady banging on the door again, she won’t come out here. We’re good.

I’ve gotten a chuckle at how my fury spreads to others and I love watching other people shoo them away. My mother-in-law opening up the door to yell at them.

My mom opening the door to yell, “BALALALALALALA!”

Or this:

My mom returning after menacingly & hilariously hunting them down with the broom.

They used to be so cute but now my anger at them grows.

But what can I do?! My chair is comfortably situated exactly at eye-height to the bird feeder. Day after day, hour after hour, I watch the squirrels hijack the bird feeder as the row of birds perched along the top of the fence awaits longingly. It’s maddening!

It drives me crazy! I’m shaking my fists right now!

The birds scramble along the bottom for the bastage squirrel’s leftovers when it should be the other way around.

We filled the entire bird feeder last weekend only to have the seed escape in the squirrels’ bellies within a span of just days… 

But oh how I love my bird feeder. It’s quite possibly my favorite installment to my (not quite) Mr. Miyagi’s backyard. It hath brought forward the blue jays.

The morning doves…

The cardinal and her beautiful bright red husband..

Even woodpeckers and mockingbirds.

Yet, there he sits.

I put the call out on Facebook for solutions and I got many. Among the suggestions were a squirrel deterrent contraption they sell at Wal-Mart, spray butter, Crisco, and a pellet gun.

I tried the butter spray.

It worked for 5 seconds.

You can see where I sprayed it along the metal part and down the wood a little but it doesn’t work so good on the wood.

He sniffed it, turned, and fled! Success!

But then 5 minutes later, his friends gave it a whirl and there they were up there snacking again.

Today, my plan includes Crisco.

Next, I’ll follow up with the contraption. Perhaps even the pellet gun. Just kidding. Sort of.

So far, the overwhelming winning deterrent so far is yelling at them and running at them with a broom. Oh if only they made “scare-squirrels.”

Although I am told there is little to really deter them. That they’ll always find a way.

That cannot be the case. I cannot sit here and watch this happen over and over again while they taunt me with their beady eyes.

I just cannot.

I will win.

I will.

Well, folks, I’m on my own today.

After the crazy whirlwind that’s been the past couple of weeks, life is returning to normal. The husband’s back to work, the kids are in school and besides The Today Show and the dishwasher running, it’s silent again here at home.

It’s sort of freeing. It’s sort of depressing.

But who are we kidding, it won’t last long, my mom is coming to stay tomorrow to keep me company and I have a friend coming over today to save me from the silence. I suppose I could use the silence though, everyone can, right? But I do have to be careful about how much time I give myself to think.

Meantime I figured I’d give you a walking tour of PH Headquarters! (Post-Hysterectomy Headquarters).

Here’s my favorite chair.

My husband affectionately calls these socks "germ traps." They are the comfiest ever. Also, don't worry, that wire right there is a laptop wire. It is not from my pee bag.

I can put my feet up, fall asleep in it and I can look outside and see the bird feeder that’s always being hijacked by the squirrels (which makes me so darned mad! More on that later.)

The view from my chair.

I spend a lot of time in this chair but my butt gets numb after a while and when I’m not in this chair, I move to the couch to try and get comfortable. (Life sure is exciting, isn’t it?)

Look at my new beautiful green pillow! Isn't it the best ever?! Mother's Day present (thanks MOM!) I have drooled over this pillow for weeks at Pier One.

These are really my only two choices besides walking around and walking around tires me out pretty quickly. I made my favorite avocado and yogurt dip for my toast the other day and had to take a two-hour nap afterward.

My body is still very tired.

This is my giant water bottle that they gave me in the hospital, I have it with me at all times and I fill it up at least 100 times a day. (Imagine how many times I’d be running to the bathroom! I guess that’s one bonus of the pocketbook.)

Cheers!

Just over a week later, I still feel like a science experiment what with my wires and pee bag and all of that. I keep thinking that the end is nearing (or at least it’d better be!) but it will still be a good week and a half before the bag comes off and at least that long where I won’t be in this much pain like I am every day. Meantime, I shall enjoy this view too:

My flowers and plants from my friends and family which I love so much. It makes me happy to see these from wherever I am. My son also put his trophies up there for me to see every day (isn't he cute?) He just got that tall one on Saturday for tiny baseball.

Speaking of pee bags (you’re welcome and for the rest of this post we’ll call it a “pocketbook,” it’s so much more lady-like), there’s very little that steals away dignity quite like a pocketbook (except maybe talking about it) but this is one of those things that bother me (I really hate this) and makes me feel like a science experiment so I may as well talk about it. I hope you never have the “privilege” of using this by the way, the convenience is way overrated.

The kids were fascinated by it at first and my older one would ask, astonished, “Are you peeing right NOW?” And I’d give an evil maniacal laugh and say, “Maybe. Buwahahahahaha!”

Anyhoo, the nice folks at the hospital were kind enough to give me two versions of this fantastic gem: a large pocketbook that’s casual and great for daytime and goes with anything! And a smaller, fancier clutch to use for a night out on the town.

OK not really, they are just one that’s bigger that you have to latch onto something or hold and one smaller one that ties onto my ankle for better mobility. (Better mobility? I sound like I’m 85.)

There are pros and cons to both of these, the bigger one I can put my feet up and have it dangle from my makeshift holder of a short file cabinet box that we move around with me to wherever I am anchored.

Makeshift "pocketbook" holder.

I do have to hold it if I do a walkabout though and if I’m in the kitchen I have to latch it onto the kitchen cabinet. I’ve gotten very resourceful. Turns out the child locks have allowed for the perfect spacing for me to latch my bag onto and the locks actually hold it there in place so it doesn’t slide off the cabinet. Who knew that all these years later, I’d be excited that my child locks hold my pee bag pocketbook in place so well?!

The leg kind is helpful because I can wear pants with it and I don’t have to hold anything when I walk around. It’s very freeing. But the bag is small and I have to be very aware of that. Ahem. Also I can’t put my legs up because then gravity works against me.

My favorite attire right now is a long night-shirt or a jammie dress thing that’s knee length. I have four of these that I rotate between every day, my one favorite says “Party Like a Rockstar” on it and my other favorite actually looks like a spring dress, it’s what I wore home from the hospital. I prefer the “spring casual” look at home.

They’re the most comfortable because they don’t hurt my stitches and they allow plenty of space for all the tubes. I only wear pants when I feel like dressing up which is never. Except for on Mother’s Day. But they had to come off quickly after everyone left because the waistband started to hurt. Summer dresses are going to be my friend after the bag’s off.

I am one with the granny panty right now. Sometimes there really is just no avoiding a good cotton granny panty.

I’ve gotten to be a pro at showering. I wanted to do that quickly on my own because honestly there’s nothing more attractive than naked pocketbook crouching and moving around and I wanted nothing less than to burn my husband’s retinas for life, so I have a system down pat for that. Although he does seem to have no problem coming in and helping me with the most God-awful things. I cannot imagine what he’s thinking during all of this but he’s been very sweet. I suppose one day it’ll be my turn.

Anyways, you’d be surprised how crazy awesome and convenient it is that the toilet paper holder we have can double as a pocketbook holder! It is the perfect height! Just move the tp off of it, hook on the bag, move it as far close to the shower as I can and voila!

Yes, it’s the little things.

I still haven’t gotten my pain meds in order, the one I am taking was way too strong and after a couple of days of taking it consecutively, I started to wake up with migraines and I started throwing it up as if I were in a giant hangover. I killed two mornings in total misery until I decided to scale back on that one and I’m sticking right now with plain old Advil. Which only sort of works.

Everything I had read about the weeks following my hysterectomy are pretty spot on. This is no picnic. I never thought it would be though. In fact, it’s really quite a pain in the ass. Or the stomach. Both, actually. (Depending on how stopped up you are. Which is a lot. My innards are still shocked and hate me.)

It’s a lot of pain and a lot of exhaustion, I have to move slowly and methodically and climbing into my tall bed has only just stopped being painful. I have my happy face on most of the time but sometimes I get really just upset and pissed about this whole thing.

Even though I am blessed to have had the results come back that it didn’t spread (hallelujah!), at the end of the day, this is all still very much a nightmare that I wish I could wake up from.

Also, having no control over my body and its functions makes me feel helpless and I hate that.

The good part though is that something gets better every day. Whether it’s one less hole in my stomach that hurts (I have 7) or it’s having a great morning or afternoon. Something always feels better. 

And I’m a cup-half-full type of gal. So that’s good.

Eating? Oh yes, that’s a whole nother story. I’ll share that in a different post and also I have a Godsend recipe for you that has gotten me through the past couple of days that I’ll share too.

So there you go! An inside (perhaps TMI) look at PH Headquarters!

I hope you enjoyed your stay! Have you gone through any of this? Surgery, hysterectomy or anything? What were the shortcuts that made your life easier?

Happy Mother’s Day to all of you mommies everywhere! I’d have had this post up earlier in the day except that my husband gave me xanax instead of my pain pill and I was zonked out for most of the day thankyouverymuch.

In his defense, he felt really bad about it. (“How was I supposed to know?! They look the same!”)

I’d like to think he just wanted me to have a relaxing Mother’s Day. Which, who are we kidding, I did.

I slept until 2:30.

(It’s a little bit of a stronger xanax so as to take at BEDTIME.)

Anyways so I was wondering (as I sit here drinking my delicious Mother’s Day concoction of Miralax and lemonade), the following:

What makes you happiest about being a mother? 

I’ve thought about this a lot over the past few weeks (I have had a lot of time lately just to think), and I think I figured out what I like best. It’s a couple of things, really.

What makes me happiest about being a mom is the part when I close my eyes and I hear those high-pitched voices talking and how they make my heart melt. (Note: I’m talking about the sweet high-pitched indoor voices here. Not the screaming. Oh, the screaming…)

It’s when I watch him fall down a million times on his roller skates but I watch him get up a million and one.

It’s when I see him counting out the people, getting lost in the numbers, and counting again until he gets it right, then setting the table all by himself, forks, napkins, drink cups and everything. For 7 people on Mother’s Day, this was a pretty big feat for my 4 year old.

It’s discovering what is important to them and their world and knowing I might have had something to do with that.

It’s watching them persevere. Have confidence. And be sensitive to other people.

It’s watching their little baby profiles with their perfect little noses walk by me or it’s when they decide that it’s best right now to be nekkid and spontaneously strip down to their skivvies despite whoever is in the room.

It’s the fact that no matter what, every day I witness the miracle of the male psyche take form in several known facts and principles like 1. If there is dirt, they will find it and go to it as if the core of their being has a magnetic pull to dirt. And 2. If there is water anywhere in the vicinity of where they hath found dirt,  they will in turn make mud. You cannot stop this. You can try but you will fail.

In fact, really, it’s all of it. 

I love it all. Even the bad stuff, the kind that makes me want to pull my hair out or go into the other room and scream. Because the (many) challenges I’ve faced being a mother have permeated all my other regions of life.

They’ve taught me to stand up for myself.

They’ve taught me to face fear.

They’ve made me narrow down my core values and the values I want to pass on to my children to the point where I could put them into a full scale powerpoint presentation in 5 seconds whereas prior to being a mother, I’d really have to think about what was important to me and if you asked me I probably would have rambled off some crap about being kind or giving or just pointed to the lady across the room and said, “whatever she says.”

Also, when a person has two little “mini-mes” walking around, with all of my flaws and everything out there for all to see, I can see promptly which areas need fixin within myself. Bonus.

So, the answer for me is, I love it all. 

What about you? What is YOUR favorite part? 

I hope you and your mommies had a wonderful Mother’s Day. This one was extra special sweet for me.

There are only a few times in my life where time has actually suspended and stood still, where the life that suddenly became larger than me had something big to tell me.

One of them was hearing the words “cervical cancer” for the first time.

Words, suspended, as if in mid-air.

The other was this morning when the doctor called me to deliver the results from pathology.

Time stands still, even when the words still hang there.

For me, this whole thing wasn’t over after surgery. I knew there would be a week of dealing with the pain of the surgery and a week of dealing with the pain of the question that hung over my head, my family’s heads, did they get it all? 

The answer couldn’t come soon enough. I won’t make you wait for it either.

THEY GOT IT.

ALL OF IT.

The Cansuh has officially left the building. 

Goodbye, sir.

Even writing that seems surreal.

The doctor tried to move on from that information because she began on the topic of my “pocketbook,” but because the words were hanging there while I tried to allow them to permeate, I was totally overwhelmed. I couldn’t speak and I am sure that all she could hear was some silent crying from the other end.

When she paused to allow me to have a moment and said, “I know. This really is good news,” I was able to eek out a hushed, “thank you.”

She went on to tell me the tumor was larger than they thought, but they had gotten it all, and there would be no need for further treatment like radiation or chemotherapy. From here on out, it will be appointments every three months and then every six. The pocketbook “accessory” gets to leave on May 23rd. Mark your calendar. I am marking mine.

She said the pathologist had “never seen anything like this.” Meaning she’d never seen a tumor of this size not having penetrated the surrounding areas.

Right now I consider myself very lucky.

We hung up the phone and the onslaught and rush of the weeks of panic and fear and worry washed over me in the form of the ugly cry.

I could only weep.

Weeks of prayers. Weeks of tears. Weeks of panicky, crippling fear. Weeks of worry. Weeks of questions. Will they get it all? Am I ok with having a hysterectomy? Will I need radiation? Chemo? Will I survive any or all of this? Did I live enough? Did I do enough with my kids? Did I teach them enough? The right stuff, the stuff that matters? Did I love hard enough? Did I say it all?

All questions I wanted and demanded answers to yet there were none. For weeks.

At the end of the day, every day, for weeks, I had to dry my tears, rely on the fact that all I had done in my life was right up until that point because there is no going backward, and just simply have faith that no matter what the answer is or was going to be, it would all be ok. It’s hard to end every day that way, with complete and utter faith, but I kept repeating in my head that God would not give me what I couldn’t handle. Even in the midst of all this and having my son’s brain MRI in the middle of it, I still knew that simply, He would not give me more than I could handle. And if I got bad news, that must mean He thinks a lot of me. It made me laugh sometimes to think of things that way, but it had to be true. I knew it as truth.

I will tell you, this news, once again breathes new perspective into my life. Hysterectomy schmysterectomy. The post-surgery pain feels suddenly lifted, it feels like a dream, even, if the pain of this surgery is all the emotional and physical pain I am going to have out of this, if I am not going to have to leave the party early, if I’m not going to have to make sudden decisions about my future or the future of my family, if this is all it is, I am going to be ok here.

I will tell you, also, that the new perspective gained from just the words “cervical cancer” has changed the way I will forever do things moving forward. I am a firm believer in not doing things that you don’t love. I believe that now more than ever.

I will tell you that I may have known the value of being good to your body before, but had I never changed my ways and had continued down the path of unhealthy and couch-potato, would I have gotten the same results? Maybe not. Being healthy now means so much more to me now than just about the weight part of it. So much more.

And I will tell you that I might have appreciated before the cansuh, but I have never appreciated like I do now. Loving hard? Yes, please. Living hard? Yes, thank you. With an overwhelming side dish of snuggles, flowers, the sun and wind on my face, baby feet, puffed cheese balls, hugs, saying it and saying it now before time goes away, and lots and lots (and lots) of pictures.

I am sure there will still be an emotional part of the hysterectomy lingering, I won’t lie that it might bother me at some point when the dust settles, things get quiet again and I have soft pangs for babies. But right now, I’m reeling from this goodness and I’m so happy and thankful for the family that I have, including the squeeziest, smushiest, most amazing, dirty, little boys ever, who are mine. 

Today I can say with everything in me that I am going to be a cervical cancer survivor. 

And so this begins my story.

I’ll just make sure I’m always armed with lots of waterproof mascara.

If my remaining parts could talk and perhaps they even had eyes and a mouth, I’m convinced right now they’d look like this.

Basically, all the remaining parts are shocked. I think they think they’re next and if they make a peep they’re goners.

So they’re in hiding.

One by one, they are starting to emerge, but it’s very unpredictable when and how.

I am spending my days trying to be one with it (I’d be shocked too if I woke up and my friends were just gone. I think I heard them say they’re glad that guy “The Cansuh” is gone now though, he was such a bully.) 

But anyways, this all is a very slow, drawn-out, sometimes apologetically loud process. Twice my husband thought I was talking to him but I was off in a corner burping.

The only way to be one with the pain of their resurgence into my little organ society is that I know things are waking up and that’s a good thing. That means things are working again. Meantime, in between, I can barely keep my eyes open long enough to think of writing a post. I get to the post title, write a line, and I’m out again.

I’ve never been so tired in all my life.

I’ve been falling asleep on and off to mostly Meg Ryan movies (You’ve Got Mail, When Harry Met Sally), I have some candles burning, my husband’s doing laundry, and I’m in a different pair of comfy jammies. I make it a point to shower every day, a process that has gotten loads easier to do by myself (independence, hooray!) There’s nothing worse, really, than naked crouching with an audience and a pocketbook.

I do my laps around the house so as to keep things (painfully) stirring and moving. And also I’m really getting creative with this liquid diet thing. I’ve got some Ensure, Cream of Wheat, strawberry yogurt, tapioca pudding, and leek soup has been my favorite dinner (straining the leeks, just the cream part — yum!) Sadly, the weight-loss part of the regimen I was looking forward to hasn’t kicked in yet, probably because of the amount of IV fluid I had in the hospital because I’m still really puffy. But wouldn’t it be a nice side effect? I think so.

My pain pills last exactly 3 1/2 hours and I am allowed to take them every four. So there is always a 1/2 hour of me saying, “Can I take them now? How bout now? Is it close enough? How bout now?”

Ironically after having worked on my backyard feverishly, I haven’t felt much like going out there. I get hot like the sun and I have the air cranked and I am freezing my family out. But when I do go outside eventually,  I have this waiting for me.

Isn’t she beautiful?

It says, “Mr. Miyagi’s backyard” on it, it’s from my Tri Warrior friends. (Thank you!) I love it so much.

I am still waiting on that darned path report. I really hope they don’t wait the weekend, then again there’s a chance I’ll sleep right through it anyway if they do. I am finally almost done with a post, hurray! I should hurry up and press publish before I fall asleep again.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

super duper high tech wheel chair

I’m home!

It’s been harder for me to blog than I thought it would be so I’m sorry for the delay.

I got home yesterday to some wonderful surprises from my girlfriends from the Disney blog trip, my Tri Warrior friends, my Mommies Little Miracles mommies, my neighbors and family, THANK YOU! I’m so blessed to be surrounded by such wonderful friends and family, I cannot say thank you enough. THANK YOU! THANK YOU THANK YOU! SO MUCH! I’m completely overwhelmed.

Yesterday my neighbor brought over dinner and my kids (remember, they’re 4 & 6) counted out how many people we were with my parents included and they set the table with dishes (paper plates) and filled up water cups and completed it with napkins and forks and knives, completely unprompted. In fact I heard them conspiring about it and planning it all out. It was the cutest thing ever.

It’s been a hard couple of days. The whirlwind is over and there is silence in my house right now and it’s starting to sink in. Eventually there will be an emotional part to this but I’m trying to ignore it and get through each day right now.

This has been quite a bit more painful than I thought it would be and the simple things are really hard to do. It makes me really happy to have done St. Anthony’s before this because just walking down the hall is a lot of work and at least I can remember the feeling and freedom of running and biking just a couple weeks ago.

I don’t really know where to start this post so I’ll start at the beginning. It’s sort of like a race report, right? Getting there early, being nervous, doing something for a while and hoping for a good, strong finish.

First of all, my family made team shirts. Which was awesome. 

We got to the hospital around 7 a.m. because they changed the time and pushed it back a couple hours. We caught the beginning of the Today Show even (Hooray! My favorite!) and I wasn’t actually nervous or scared until we were finished with the pre-op stuff and I said my goodbyes to my husband, sister and mom. They had wheeled me into a hallway just outside a small room with a million lights and a million people bustling about in their blue outfits and masks, all preparing for me.

It hit me hard at that moment and the tears began to fall freely and uncontrollably as I lay there.

Of course that’s exactly the moment my doctor walked up and asked me how I was doing. I choked out, “Good,” and he said, “It doesn’t look like it.”

He started talking to me real quietly about the game plan, even made a joke about bringing his “how-to” book with him, and then he brought my family back since they weren’t quite ready for me yet in surgery. We sort of all went over the game plan together and they exchanged phone numbers and then it was time. I felt a little better until they gave me that “happy juice” in my IV and all of a sudden I felt MUCH better, in fact I was like, “WEEEEEE!” and I was waving all happy with big giant waves at everyone, saying, “BYE!!!” like I was headed off for a cruise in the Caribbean.

That’s the very last thing I remember until I woke up trying to take out my breathing tube, which was slightly very uncomfortable. The whole thing took 6 hours.

Once I woke up, they brought in my family to say hi and it took a while for me to get into my room. I had gone into surgery at 9 a.m. and I eventually got into my room at 8 p.m.

My midsection was on fire.

I couldn’t get comfortable. It was hot as hell. I was pretty sure I stunk.

Also, it took about a day and a half to figure out what would work for me with pain medication. We tried morphine which seemed a little aggressive sounding, but in fact I hated it, it didn’t work and I felt like I couldn’t breathe after they gave it to me. Also it went in and went out so quickly and I kept needing more and I didn’t like that. We tried something else that wasn’t strong enough either, so I didn’t sleep at all Saturday night and I spent most of Sunday in agony.

My only task on Sunday was to get up and walk at least once. Which I couldn’t even picture to be honest, I couldn’t even move an inch without wanting to scream. Every single movement seemed to trigger these spasms in my stomach which made it hard for me to breathe.

It took me about 3 hours to get the courage just to sit up and then what felt like another 30 minutes to walk to my chair. It was painful but I did it. Baby steps, right?

That night we found the perfect concoction of medicine, which was double of the something I can’t pronounce  and some gas stuff (you’re welcome but boy was that a God send. Even now, I’m filled up like Walter the Farting Dog was when he started to blow up and float away. If you don’t have that book, go get it, it’s funny. I bought it for my nephews and my son has it too.)

Anyhoo. Sunday night I slept like a baby and I was thankful. I wasn’t ready to go home Sunday so I had to stay another night and would get to go home Monday if I could walk a little more and keep my pain under control.

That took most of the day, though, because what had worked the night before wasn’t working during the day on Monday and my stomach felt like it was going to pop.

Eventually, I got the courage up to walk the hallways with what my mom affectionately calls “my pocketbook” which is the foley for the catheter. (Hooray!) Don’t worry, I won’t post pictures of this. This is one of those things that sort of strips away some dignity, along with the backless gown. So I was really excited when they told me I’d be going home with that little purse gem too, so yes! I’ve got my pocketbook for the next two weeks. I won’t be going very many places, to say the least.

By the way, it brings a whole new meaning to “my husband’s carrying my purse” as he helps me get around. He’s been amazing. I feel bad for him for some of the stuff he has had to see and do, but he’s been such a champ about it all. It must be love. I get a lot of questions from the kids about the pee bag too. Yes, my mom calls it a pocketbook, I call it a pee bag. Tomato Tomahto.

Sidebar: the food at the hospital has been awful. Probably not to anyone’s surprise. But I’m still on mostly liquids for the next two weeks until everything starts working properly again. Yogurts, puddings, soups, I’m hoping to make racing weight by the end of this. *snicker* It’s been unidentified beef something or other or horrendous cream of wheat, gah. I’m glad to be home.

So anyways, now that I’m home, I’ve got my “purse”, I’ve got my liquids, I’ve got my comfy chair and pjs and the hard part is over, finally. I was pretty much a wreck leading up to that surgery and I still sort of try not to think about it. But I’m glad it’s over. I’m also glad I got to see my sister and brother-in-law and their babies for a few days. I miss them already.

Now, I wait for the path report which should come back this week to see if they got it all. Meantime, I’m dizzy from the pain meds so I’ll be here sporadically blogging and just going with what moves me at the time. I’m still in a lot of pain but it gets better every day and I’m so, so tired.

I’m also trying not to feel lazy because I do.

But For now I’m trying to do this.

I love that.

They made shirts.

Well this is it. I only have a second but I wanted to say hi.

I was holding it together pretty well until the above walked in wearing the shirts they made for the surgery. We all made shirts for the surgery. We’re definitely cut from the same dorky wonderful cloth.

Thank you for your thoughts and prayers over the past couple weeks, I have no words for any of it but I feel blessed to have you in my life, so thank you.

I’ll see you later.

Ps. I lost 6 pounds from that awful concoction they gave me yesterday so it was effective. You’re welcome.

Pss. Bye, Cansuh.

 I have one word for the latest superhero flick to grace the big screen and it’s this: IMAX.

I am a superhero person (you know I have a natural affection for capes and all — oh yes, I do love me a good superhero or six), but honestly I’m not really a superhero movie type-a gal.

Marvel’s The Avengers, however, had me at the word,”portal.” (You know I love a good portal or vortex. Them some of my favorite words.)

Based on the 1963 classics by Marvel Comics, Marvel’s The Avengers (written and directed by Joss Whedon) sticks to the solid basics of a good superhero plot: the very existence of the world is in jeopardy and only a dream team can save it. The dream team in this case is made up of past favorites: The Hulk, Captain America, Hawkeye, Iron Man, Thor, and Black Widow. Each of them on their own is powerful, but together, their power is unstoppable.

Or so you think. 

I’m going to get right to it this time: I loved this movie.

It was hilarious all throughout, often, and often unexpectedly.

I tend to laugh at everything but grown men everywhere in the theater were laughing out loud, including my husband, so my laughter was validated. But it’s not just about the funny (which it was).

It’s a great ride from beginning to end with twists that make an often overused storyline somehow miraculously different by adding things like an open portal to space, evil alien armies, an evil brother that you love to hate and a multi-layer power struggle with a scotch on ice and full-length leather trench coats (plural. And always cool).

The action starts right at the beginning and the plot changes as the characters change. Yes to me it actually even has the big three: character development, an actual plot and humor.

The assembly of a superhero cast probably had something to do with all that: Robert Downey, Jr.,(Iron Man) Samuel L. Jackson (S.H.I.E.L.D.), Chris Evans (Captain America), Mark Ruffalo (The Hulk), Chris Hemsworth (Thor), Scarlett Johansson (Black Widow), Jeremy Renner (Hawkeye), Tom Hiddleston (Loki, the evil doer),  among some of them.

Fight scenes? Yes please. I love me a good female superhero like Black Widow. The fight scenes are exciting (when I transport myself outside my typical “mom” self), the special effects are pretty spectacular and you don’t have to worry about anything being believable or not because it’s, well, superheroes. So all of it makes sense. It does help that it was written well enough to make the unbelievable somewhat actually sort of believable. (Hey, it could happen! You never know!)

You can see Marvel’s The Avengers in a regular theater but I say see it in IMAX is because the IMAX screen and the 3D make it so that you are flying along with them, literally. You’re looking down toward the earth from the sky, you are launching into the sky from the earth, it doesn’t get much cooler than that except for say, at Epcot on Soarin, or something like that. I’m normally not all that impressed by 3D movies and can go either way on them, but this movie you could reach out and touch.

My only critique? If you’re going to update the characters and their outfits for a good superhero assembly, give poor Captain America some non-spandex. There’s gotta be a way to make tights look cooler in 2012. I almost felt bad for him.

In sum: I love it when I leave a movie feeling invincible myself. And that’s what it did. Pretty good timing, if I do say so myself.

Marvel’s The Avengers is PG-13. It opens up on Friday, May 4th everywhere.

Go see it. Better yet, SEE IT IN IMAX!

While you’re at it, enter to win my Marvel’s The Avengers Giveaway here!

Like Marvel’s The Avengers on Facebook. Follow @Avengers on Twitter.

Disclosure: I saw an advanced screening of Marvel’s The Avengers. Opinions expressed are my own.