So, I got some of my stitches out a few days ago – the part with the gauze barrier attached. Good thing, because they were starting to smell a little weird.
The bad news is, the smell is still there. It’s not infection – because they assured me of that earlier this week. It’s just vaguely sweet, like fermenting fruit, and it makes me insane.
Matt says he can’t smell anything, and several of my friends have assured me I pass the sniff test, but I can smell it and it makes me feel filthy.
Also, because of the bandaging and whatnot, that side of my head looks greasy and mangled.
On top of all of that, I’ve derailed the Weight Watchers train a little and gained back four pounds in the past month. At this rate, I’ll be a lifetimer around age 60. Because in addition to wanting to eat anything that isn’t nailed down, I haven’t been cleared for Zumba or Water Aerobics. He didn’t say I couldn’t do walking, and I suppose I’ll hit up the indoor track at the Y this weekend. Except I hate walking. I like classes.
I need to stop eating, start walking and quit bitching about it all.
But what I’d like is gravy. And pasta and cheese and several kinds of cake. And a pot roast. And some potatoes. And a few baskets of bread and butter.
Apparently, I just want some carbs. Carbs that don’t come from watermelon.
But since 4th of July, I’ve gained 4 pounds.
And that’s after they cut out a tumor that must have weighed several pounds.
No, not really, but a girl can dream.
I’d buy myself some perfume to distract from the stench of being Massive Head Wound Harry, but I need to save my funds for the rest of this pay period – specifically, because next weekend, I’m taking my stinky self to Chattanooga to have an outing with the family. Baseball with the in-laws and cousin-types. YAaay!
|I think I may just lie down for a second...
I may buy a hat for the outing.