Recovery Room: a walk in the park.

It turned out, that the surgical recovery center was outfitted with Jim Trotters, fantastical St. Louis monument photography. I believe my room was called "A walk in the park". The photograph in my line of site, was taken on mars. But on mars they built a park. That park was very similar to forest park here in St. Louis. I didn't know that Jim Trotter had a space ship. I hope he made a safe trip back into the earth's atmosphere.

This photo was taken by my father. I think he took about 30 photos. "say cheese" didn't offer the candid response he was looking to accurately depict the situation. I'm not sure exactly what we where smiling about, but I know it was super exciting. Double thumbs up!

I'm in and out of consciousness. Over the next I don't know how many hours.

Things I remember.
My dad went to Kolh's. I told him to go to target. But it turned out ok.

Someone brought me some Edamame (i just spelled that right on the first try! shit yeah magazine) There were also fortune cookies. Mine said "the more you give, the more you will receive." I didn't know confucisous was so into oral sex.

JT slept on the recliner. The recliner was made of wood and hardness. While they where manufacturing this recliner, they called in a focus group. When 10 out of 10 people where extremely uncomfortable. The chair then received high points and was propelled in to production. I personally watched him change positions, upwards of 3 million times over the course of the 8 hour night.

The buttons that are supposed to help you raise and lower your head on the bed. Are strategically placed in the exact spot you will never be able to reach on your own.

I had some yogurt, also a fruit cup.

Jeff, MU, JT, mom and Dave where in and out.

JC was in and out.

We watched the Big Labowski with my mom. She asked what the plot was about. We really couldn't give her an answer.

The next morning, my plastic surgeon came to check on her handycraft. I was standing up, with my arms above my head, trying to pull the knots of of my tangled mane. There was some surprise in her on face at my standing upon her arrival, I knew i was supposed to be laying down, I knew i was supposed to be not brushing my hair. And I was alone for the first time in quite a while, since for some reason my party of seven had dispersed. MU and Jeff and were probably making out somewhere in an unoccupied patient room. Dave and JT were probably outside smoking. My dad probably gave JT another business card. Mom was somewhere in a grey Chevy Malibu.

Ironically, this over night stay in "The Walk In the Park" was just that. Thanks to my friends Jeff and MU, even though those bitches won't give me back my keys right now and are suspect for hair product thief. Their timely arrival on the morning of the surgery, high spirits, energy and support helped to save not only save my sanity, but also save my sanity. I would had been a anxious nervous wreck. I am now in debt a legion of hj's.

I also couldn't have made it through this day/week with out JT. He woke up historically early and stayed close enough to me for the longest periods of time over the course of the day after, night after and days of recovery at gpeeps. JT is the only the person I need to see everyday. He's my ET.

My father jumped through hoops and took lashes to the back side with my drugged out dissatisfaction. But all his efforts were executed perfectly and are appreciated. Sometimes you know, men do the right things, go figure. And as stated above, we have this priceless photo to enjoy.

My mom was there to love me. I love you too mom.

BW. I didn't want to shatter your innocence by having you too close to the situation, but your availability at the right moments was crucial.

Everybody who came to the party, or gave me a face book "notification", email, text message, cards, flowers, etc. Thank you, I was living for that feedback all week.

Its been one week exactly. I'm already considering popping into work for a few hours, but maybe tomorrow. But tomorrow I'm also going to DELUX meeting, and the Art D member meeting. . .

Whoa.

Breath.