Witty & Wise Ties, Trivia & Lies
I let U of U Bow Tie o’ the Day pick out and order a suitable fanatic outfit for me, for the upcoming college football-watching season. It’s a charming winner. Sorry, but this is a lazy post on my part. See, I took a shower so I could be clean and shiny for the day’s activities. It’s been over two weeks since surgery, and that 20-minute shower exhausted me. All I’ve been capable of doing is nodding, dozing, and snoring, on the couch for five hours. Thus far.
Recovery from having your innards played with is boring. I’ve gotta get out! Bow Tie o’ the Day accompanied us on my first post-surgery venture. I would have preferred to go to a movie or do some white-water rafting, but Suzanne made me live in reality, so she drove us to Walmart. My stamina gave out before Suzanne even got to the make-up aisle. If she’d gotten there, she’d have forgotten about me, and I would’ve had to wait, napping in the shopping cart for hours. 🛒
Tie o’ the Day presents green olives swimming in martinis. (If you martini, go with the olives, not cocktail onions. Just sayin’.) Why is Tie olive-ing on this post? One of Hanky Panky’s issues was its gravel pit full of pancreatic stones which needed to be mined and hauled away. When I woke up from my magical surgery, Suzanne explained what the doc had taken out, moved, re-plumbed, etc. My doc had told her that some of my Panky stones were the size of olives. 🍸 Groovy, eh?
I had my surgery follow-up appointment yesterday, and Bow Tie o’ the Day is showing off its healthy cells to announce that my biopsy found no evil, cancerous cells. My recovery from being gutted a couple of weeks ago is also progressing on schedule. My incision is still stunning, even without the bling-y staples. I find it interesting that the same day I got my healthy health news, my monthly subscription bow tie showed up in the mail, covered in perfect cells. I got the message. 📪
Here, Bow Tie o’ the Day stars in the last of the hospital selfies I took. You’ll also note that I had one of the sock monkey blankets Suzanne has made me over the years. And on my shoulder sits my stuffed gnome head, which is symbolic of my Sister Who Wishes To Remain Nameless, who runs a gnome ranch. She has so many, I’m sure she can only keep track of them by branding them. A bow tie, a blanket, a gnome, and a sister. I felt safe.
The day before I went into surgery, these crocheted Bow Ties o’ the Day knocked at my door. Bow Ties and flip-flops– two of history’s greatest inventions. My pal, Georgia Grayson Wadsworth, crocheted them for my hospital stay. With these and all the prayers and good vibrations y’all threw at me, I wasn’t askeered. I wasn’t alone. Some of you, I haven’t even seen for a couple of decades. When we begin to quit believing in the world’s goodness, remember these kinds of things. The generosity outweighs the chaos.
Bow Tie o’ the Day provided my stars-and-stripes on the 4th. The Delta Parade couldn’t be in my hospital room, but Bow Tie did the honors. This was the happiest I looked that day. Later, an hours-long train o’ pain twisted me into the fetal position, where somehow I was both immobilized AND writhing non-stop. The hurt went deeper: I saw Suzanne’s pain, as she watched my pain. She bravely stayed. Finally, I couldn’t watch her watch me anymore. I ordered her home, where Skitter could comfort her. 🗽
A week ago was the 4th of July. Being in Huntsman kept us from traditional celebrating. But Bow Tie o’ the Day was patriotic with me in my hospital room. Bow Tie’s fabric print is The Constitution of the United States of America. From the windows on my floor, you could see most of the fireworks displays in the SL valley. We’re returning next year as a kind of “surgi-versarry.” And this time, my butt won’t be hanging out of a hospital gown while I watch the fireworks. 🎆 🎇
Bow Tie o’ the Day is ripe with info about my Whipple procedure. During the 5-hour surgery, my duodenum, gall bladder, a gang of Panky stones, and 2/3 of Hanky Panky were removed. Leftover Panky got re-wired. 😱 In elementary school, occasionally some-kid-or-another would bring their recently removed tonsils to Show-and-Tell, in a clear jar. Grossly awesome! Sadly, you can’t keep your removed body parts anymore. I would’ve kept mine, if I could have. And right now, you and the ties would be staring at them– half-gagging, but completely fascinated. 😳
I guess I lived. 👍 (Huntsman stories ahead.) Bow Tie o’ the Day presents the jewelry my tummy got in surgery: a mesmerizing 7-inch-long, 16-staple piece o’ bling. It was legendary hospital-wide for its perky perfection. Docs and nurses who weren’t even mine came to gander at its glory. Apparently, my closed incision was the textbook-proper shade of pink, and its precision-spaced staples were to die for. Of course, you and I know it was really Bow Tie’s charisma that kept the medical audience filing past my bed. 📎