Warning: This Post Is All About Me

Man-oh-Man, am I in a pissy mood today! That's right. You've clicked your way into another blog of possibly no interest to you whatsoever when it involves reading about non-world news/celebrity stuff. Yes, I wrote "stuff" because I am not in the mood to find other words. 

And what, per chance, has addled my furry brain into an "Off with their heads" attitude on what I can only admit is a glorious sunshiny day in California? Are you ready for the admission?

I am tired of living in pain, and I'm growing tired of being tired from the energy it takes to live this way for now, although I know my situation is supposedly temporary and many, many people live in horrific pain every day and may have to do so until the end of their lives.

My hip/leg situation is mending on track by all accounts. I can walk around with a cane and sometimes without one around the house. But the thing is, there comes a time in one's post-surgery recovery where one becomes impatient to get back to the mobility they once had, as well as days when you simply don't want to get out of bed. Today I didn't, but I did anyway.

And despite the many cute little posts I've made over the months where someone is always falling asleep, I rarely sleep in and whether or not I have some place to go, I always get up and go about whatever it is I need to do on any given day.

When the ability to even sweep a dirty floor, keep clothing neatly stacked in a closet shelf, becomes an overwhelming task, one either accepts the limitation with aplomb or, eventually, gets either mad or begins a pity party for themselves that, of course, doesn't aid a positive attitude for healing.

At the same time, in reading of the experiences of many people who are going through the same recovery process that I am undergoing, I realize how fortunate I have been to have (by near "accident") one of the top Orthopedic surgeons in the country responsible for my partial hip replacement due to a serious fracture combined with a blood clot and a still irritating Sciatic nerve problem. So, yes, I am fortunate in the midst of what many may deem to be misfortune.

But I'm still human. I have emotions. And I'm also dealing with what now appears to be a small stress sprain (or worse) on my right wrist from the crutching around for four weeks on what I eventually discovered was a fractured hip (along with the post-op crutching) when everyone else responsible for my care focused only on the blood clot and the fact that I had a very bad pinched nerve that brought with it as much, if not more, pain than both of my broken legs as a teenager. (Run over by a car while riding a bicycle when I was 13 with 3 surgeries and two months hospitalized in traction, then at 15 another broken leg from a car accident requiring two more months in traction on the other leg.)

That all sounds so painful, doesn't it? And I'm bringing it up not in the least for your sympathy. I am writing about it because I am more than a bit angry and also sad that my life has been full of accidents (beyond what I just wrote) that required crutches and slings, but no arrows, thank God. I've had so many X-rays one should be able to see the radiation outline of me in the darkness of night. See that glow? It's Shauna!

As much as I have had miracles in my life with incredible moments in love, career, friendships and being in the "right" place at the "right" time and meeting many of my lifetime heroes/idols, I see how oddly balanced my karma is. For every great moment, there has been total agony. I am a trooper and I barely cry over physical pain. I will, of course, fall apart if a relationship ends, or if my bank account suddenly falls to zero. But I am known for handling the other half of the pain quite well.

Today I simply woke up to a throbbing pain that apparently is normal in recovery, but then looked around at my room, floor covered in bits of white feathers from a recent rip in my comforter that is currently without its duvet coupled with tiny leaves from the balcony and what visitors traipse in from the leaf-covered driveway, then caned into the other part of the house to stumble on debris in the hallway and foyer that sent me into a funk. I cannot clean it up, and the cleaning people aren't scheduled this month...and, if you don't know by now, I'm quite the neat freak. If my environment is funky, I will eventually fall into a funk.

One nice thing is that my extremely busy housemate stopped all work for a half hour and took care of the mess. But I am frustrated that I cannot do many of these things myself. Don't get me wrong. I loathe housework. But more than that, I loathe dirt and clutter. And more than even that, I dislike feeling too tired to tackle the small things I once did in a flash.

Perhaps this self-focused post won't fall on totally deaf ears. If you know anyone who is recuperating from major surgery and is facing a 6 month recovery and needs a little "misery loves company" send them here so they know they aren't alone.

I know I'll get better. I'm less than 5 weeks from surgery. And I have at least two months of serious self and PT care-taking before rounding-out at the total recovery timeframe mentioned above.

But we all have our good and bad days, and today I am flogging something I have some (but not a lot of) control over = my body's pace of healing.

In a few hours I hope to be less pissy and on my way to doing what I can to bring parts of my life back together in a way that will help me feel less discouraged. For now, after much deliberation on what today's focus would be, I couldn't find anything that upsets me more than how I feel today...so that's it for now.

Hopefully Herman Cain will continue to provide fodder for a future post so that those of you who stopped by will get a bit of entertainment out of a presidential hopeful who barely remembered what happened in Libya.

Sheesh!