A quick thank you to everyone who has helped me out this week – I even got flowers! I haven’t received plants since my last surgery at the age of 5:
that ceramic dog on the bedside table holds a philodendron I was quite proud of
What’s supercool is that I can actually smell the flowers, which I haven’t done with that intensity since, well, the age of 5. Another odd thing: I can hear the sound of air going through the right side of my head. Those passages have been closed lo so many years that the sensation is jarring (but awesomeballs).
While I’ve been boring everyone to tears with my ruminations on sinuses and backrubs, the debate is still raging in the comments section from last week about gay marriage. I get so angry so quickly that I’ve let cooler heads argue better than I would, so take a look (unless you’re The Budster, whom my spam filter loathes for some reason… Bud, can you post as “Blanche” or something?)
It’s been a week since they cut me open, and it’s time to be a real human again. The strength of my strength lies in my wife Tessa, whose superwoman powers never fail to render me mute with tears. And of course, the little girl who wanted diagrams of my septum, nanometer inspections of my IV stent, and watched with awe as I did the neti pot. I love you both so, so, so much.