This incision, if you can believe it, provided the necessary ductwork ( nothing is going to make me start using words like "veins and arteries") to replace the ones that were removed with this sizeable patch (do NOT click if you're not the kind of person who likes medical stuff. In other words, me.) of skin, that was then transferred to the place in my mouth causing all the problems. Honest to God, it's kind of incredible, but because of all that, blood is being carried back and forth from old skin to new, and the new skin is settling into it's new home and doing nicely, thank you very much, and the horrible fistula is....fixed. I can eat, I can drink, I can sit around and feel sorry for myself...oh, oops. Lost my train of thought. I know everybody thinks I spend all day dancing on my tip toes and counting my blessings, but frankly, that is seldom the case.
So, back to Bruno's shock at what seemed to be a sudden fit involving indecent exposure This happened in the private offices of our plastic surgeon. I love him with the same fatuous giddiness that is my response to all the white coats, with their olive skin and haughty Conquistador attitudes, but my feelings for him are tinged with hostility. The other guys just tell me I'm doing awesome.
" I think that it is perfect" they say to each other in their devastating accents, adding a sort of latin gesture that in Alabama would be a chest thump. But Dr. Hector likes to throw in a scary story, a little morality tale.
|Dr. Hector is on the right. That's Dr Santiago Hernandez|
to my left. He's my team co-ordinater, so I get him in all the pictures.
I was born in Germany, and my brothers and sister and I were raised on a book called Der Strewelpeter, Dr. Hector could have written it. Every story in that book ended with the most hideous end coming to bad little children who broke the rules....eaten by sharks, getting set on fire, having their thumbs cut off...and that's the kind of thing Dr. Hector likes to throw in after telling me that everything is fine. When my horror at how mean he is shows up on my face, that's when he throws in the Latin shrug. "Well," says he "It is for you," as though I've got some nerve to look terrified at his awful fables.
So, because of Dr. Hector, Mr. Wolf in sheep's clothing--I mean, look at that face! You can't imagine him being scary, can you?--because of him, I'm back on silence. I was given permission to talk normally by the oncological surgeon, but apparently the women in his life are too dazzled to talk much, so he didn't know what normal talking is. And Dr. Hector told Bruno one of his dumb scary stories about what would happen if I didn't shut the hell up right now, and stay shut up for an in definite period, and so... I'm back to my whiteboard.
|This is me, using old school face time with my Mom|
So this is how I'll be winning friends and influencing nobody for the next couple of months. But listen to this...He ALSO said, in front of Bruno, the chief custodian, that I can't type with my left hand!
Um, hello, I'm trying to write a blog here because I can't talk! But see, just when I get snippy like that, I see Dr Hector's face, and I hear him say "Well,"( latin shrug,) "It is for you."
And I think of all of you...Oh my God, what this community has done for me during this time! And I think "Well....it is for them."
I gotta work on that shrug, though.