Well, I survived my surgery. I still feel pretty rotten. My child understands that mummy’s “sick”. Even though I’m still in the house, because I’m not the one looking after her, she seems to be “missing” me. She comes to look at me in bed, declaring “that’s my mummy!” when she spots me, as though she’s found me in a game of hide and seek. She informs me that I’m sick and asks me if I’m feeling “better” a lot.
We watched Cinderella at her request on the couch under a blanky the other afternoon. She was so excited to be doing something with me. I gave her a lot of kisses and promised her things would be back to normal soon.
It’s been a bit of a grim easter, really. My friend’s grandmother died, and then my aunt’s father, and then I found out that a client from work lost his mother, AND one of my mother’s friends lost THEIR mother. I thought these things were only supposed to go in threes.
I have no peppy way to end this post.
The only other thing I have to say is that for the first time, after having a new experience opened up to me, I find myself feeling less empathetic and sympathetic, not more, for the actions of others, because it’s occurred to me that sinus surgery must be a bit like have plastic surgery in terms of a doctor cutting your face up and stitching it back together and I don’t know why anyone would do this to themselves if they didn’t need to. This is just shit. I feel shit.