Post-op week 19.
I miss my journal.
My recovery from my second hip surgery has not gone undocumented. It's in my emails to my surgeon, my boyfriend, my parents, my friends, Twitter, and some message boards. It's not the same without the tags and easy access and stupid jokes.
It was the same old story. I got all uptight about posting complete journal pieces and the words stopped coming. The lack of (self-imposed) pressure makes words flow more easily in correspondence, so of course my emails are nightmares of unchecked verbosity broken only by paragraphs. (I try to avoid the Wall O' Text.) Somewhere in the middle is my journal.
I started this journal in August of 2000. I can't stop now.
Some of you started your journals around the same time, or a little later. I miss you too. I've been pulled away into other things -- a hockey message board, my Flickr page, freaking Twitter
-- and I've stopped keeping in touch with your lives. I miss that. You're all so interesting.
One of you disappeared in the middle of the year. You may be on Dreamwidth, but I don't know your name there. I hope you're okay. I think about you and your husband and your cats.
I should be sleeping. I have a cold, and when I lie down, I can't breathe. Fifteen minutes and I can take some NyQuil. Then I won't notice that I'm breathing through my mouth and drooling on my pillow.
Tags: dysplasia, journal, pao, recovery, sick, surgery, twitter