Friday, January 26, 2007

And the Bad News is…I’m Feeling Better

I am. Not great, but better. It’s amazing. I’m actually able to eat without a bunch of pain. Can’t eat much, but I can eat.

Which is all really fantabulous news, except that I think that means they won’t take my gallbladder out - even though I’ve had 3 flare-ups in 5 years. (Doctors are leaving Ohio in droves right now as we are a “hostile environment” for them to practice in. As a citizenry, we sue for everything – and win huge settlements). So, I’m feeling pretty pessimistic that a surgeon is going to agree to cut me open based on my desire to eat like a normal person again. We’ll see.

But I’m refusing to worry about it. I think I’m on the tail end of this one, and I’m just happy about it.

In my feeling better, I have become more…um…effusive. Much more willing to connect. Open to dialogue. Capable of creating and maintaining conversation in all situations.

I’m talking SRH’s ear off, folks.

And he’s been sick all this week - first with a migraine and now with a cold.

But I just gotta be me. The old me. The me that was before I was sick all this fall and then couldn’t eat for a month. The me who may hate everyone else in the world but can’t wait to see SRH at the end of the day so that I can tell him how much I hate everyone else.

That me.

That “me” led “us” to the following conversation earlier this week:

Me: Chitter chatter, pitty pat, talk, talk, talk.

SRH: I’m sorry, honey. I’m not really up to talking right now. My head is killing me.

(He emphasizes this by wincing as he looks up past the bill of the baseball cap he is wearing inside so that less light gets in his eyes).

Me: Oh, yeah. Sorry about that. I was just saying…blather, blather, mighty pop, jaw jaw jaw. Anyway, you don’t have to respond. I just finally feel like talking. You don’t really have to listen.

SRH: (annoyed grunt)

Me: So, anyway…boom, boom, boom, let’s go back to your room, walla walla , do wah ditty, yak yak yak.

SRH: (forlorn sigh)

Me: And what do you think about that? I mean, I’m sure that…buzz, buzz, heliotrope, icicle, rap rap rap.

SRH: You know what I think? (smiles) I think you’re too pretty to talk.

Me: (speechless)

He gets me every time. Every. Single. Time.

Well played, SRH. Well played.


Kristi said...

Too pretty to talk...nice. I'm glad you're better.

belsum said...

Aww. Sometimes husbands really are nice to have around!

Zany Mama said...

Thanks, me too. I found "too pretty to talk" to be one of the most inspired quips SRH has come up with for quite a while. The man is genius.

What I like best about him is how he knew the perfectly absurd thing to say to his feminist wife - it was five good seconds of silence before I snorted.

kimmyk said...

I'm sorry to hear y'all are sick. And you're right-it does seem to be going around.

You're so cute though. Your conversation totally made me smile because there are days when Honey's just a chattering and I'm all "OMG...Will someone shut him up!" and then it dawns on me...If I feed him he'll hush. So yeah, I've been cookin.

Good one on SRH though. That was a great answer!

L. Noelle said...

I'm very happy to hear you are feeling better, and that you don't have to go through surgery. That's always better! I really appreciate your input on my post. You're right about contacting other organizations who already have support. That is what I am doing currently. I know that the wheel is hard to re-invent, since no one has done it yet! If you can, email me privately. I have some information for you also for your little Zane.

Sue said...

I love his way of getting you to stop talking. Glad he can still make your speechless. :)

I can empathize with your childcare issues. My daughter has food allergies - it's tough to work childcare around.

Glad you're feeling better and I hope the childcare works out. Good luck.

peefer said...

That was sly. I'm totally going to use it.

SRH said...

It didn't work

Anonymous said...

You should hightail it over to Kentucky for that operation.

Zany Mama said...

Don't encourage him, please. He already thinks he's witty enough! :)

Will email you shortly. Thanks!

The man is too clever by half. (Although I've never really understood that saying, it seemed appropriate for this particular instance.)

And I'm sure your wife will respond by calling you yet another "not a baby name".

It worked momentarily.

Desperate times call for desperate measures - you may have the right of it.