Either I'm handling Mama's death very well, or I am in complete denial, and the ton of bricks has yet to fall.

I sort of have to keep reminding myself that she's gone, you know?  I look at the first sentence of that last entry, and it's like that isn't happening to me.  I've cried, it isn't that.  But there's a composure that seems out of place.  I'm parentless now.  It's just me.

If I begin to think too far ahead, my head spins.  One little chore, one little step at a time, I keep telling myself.  Nothing can be done at all until I receive the death certificates, so staying still seems to be all I can do right now.

People keep telling me to get a lawyer, or an accountant.  I don't know anyone up there.  It makes my head hurt trying to pull it all together.  Since I'm the only child, shouldn't it be fairly straightforward and easy?  Haven't people with less intelligence than me managed estates successfully before?

I am giving myself the early Christmas present of calling off any more gift knitting.  What's done for the etsy shop is done, unless I'm truly in the mood to make something for there.  The sweater I was trying to get done for Briton was going painfully (in the literal sense;  tough yarn), so it got ripped out this afternoon.  And I could feel the load lighten.  Yes, I'm upset that I won't have it to give him, but I'm more relieved that there are no more deadlines looming over me.

Catch-Up

Pretty sure my hospitalization for depression is now out the window;  the pending gall bladder bills will eat up all that trust fund money.

Since I got home, the need to knit has been impossible to tamp down.  Don't know why, exactly --- I've gone a couple of days without knitting before.  But this is crazy, almost primal.  Same (little less concentrated) goes for reading.

I have a place (I hesitate to call it a "blog") on tumblr, and the number of people, especially young people, who knit and are excited about knitting there is so delightful.  Some of them are fearless, which inspires me.

And it's cowls this year, isn't it?  The thing to knit.  Oh, and the beekeeper quilt.  I'm not seeing any hexipuffs in my future, but I do like the cowls.  This is my favorite so far:

The Lemon Twist Cowl.  Very simple, and a nice fit.

I bruise sickeningly easily.  You can imagine what color my tummy is, with 4 laproscopic sites there.  And my left arm, where there were 2 separate IV lines.  But look at my right arm:

 To the left is where they tried (just tried, now) to put an IV in.  The big bruises are from --- my right hand on this --- the blood pressure cuff.  Granted, they took my blood pressure every two hours, but, still. . .
 I'm feeling alright.  Still very sore, but I'm trying to ration out my pain meds.  Have only needed the anti-nausea pills once, which is good.  I go see the doctor in about 3 weeks.  This has all been a disconcerting blur;  I scarcely remember any of it, even when I try to put it all together. 
And I woke up today with a crick in my neck.  Very painful.  The crick has caused me to hold my head at all sorts of weird angles all day, which has only added to the pain.  Think I'm going to have to break into my ration plan to get any sleep tonight.

What A Long, Strange Weekend It's Been

I made myself get up early Saturday morning (to beat gameday/tailgating shoppers) and get to the grocery for a few necessities: cat litter, cat food, cases of soda, etc.  All sort of heavy.  By late Saturday afternoon, a pain had developed right under my ribcage --- I figured it was a pulled muscle or something, but it just wouldn't go away.  Or ease up at all.

Finally, around 8 or so Saturday night, I got Briton to take me to the hospital.  It's my gall bladder.  And it needs to come out.  This is SO totally out of left field. . .  But the next thing I know, I'm scheduled for Sunday morning surgery.

Which goes well, except I apparently thrashed around while coming out from the anesthesia --- I woke up shackled to the bed in Recovery.  They're willing to let me go home, but my blood pressure is a tad low, so they keep me until today.

And now I'm home, with no less than six prescription drugs to take.  (My 3 anti-depressant/anxiety ones plus an antibiotic, an anti-nausea and an anti-pain.)  And no gall bladder.

It's a sort of a whirlish blur.  I'm going to have to read all the orders they sent home with me to try to make sense of it.  Right now I'm sore, and the Percocet is taking hold, and I just really want to knit.

How was your weekend?