Amy Chua


Okay, this is fucking disgusting.  This poor woman undergoes major surgery, is hospitalized for three weeks, and emerges to discover she’s being used as a pawn in further attacks against Kavanaugh?

I imagine they were likely targeting her too, for the crime of supporting him.

And to pull this shit while she was in the hospital?  Beyond depraved.

She needs to be healing right now, not dealing with this bullshit!

Ugh.  This one hits too close to home.




[My Kid] was home sick today.

TEXT FROM MY MOM: “How is •••• feeling?  Is he still running a fever?  Did you remember to call the school?”

MY REPLY: “I dumped him off at the ER hours ago and hightailed it the fuck outta there.  His complexion was pastier than mine, and he was spewing profanity in about six different languages… along with what looked to be pea soup.  I then called the school and — after explaining that we were both converting to Roman Catholicism — arranged for his school records (including the IEP) to be transferred over to St. Timothy’s, which he will be attending once Father Karras says he’s in the clear.”

HER REPLY: “That is nice. Don’t forget to send in a note. Or maybe I should just email his teacher for you.”



I’m here; I’m alive.  Been back at my parents’ house for the past ten days or so, and I haven’t really bothered charging my cell.  Whatever time I’m not spending with Ev is largely occupied by BBC America: Orphan Black, Doctor Who, and of course Star Trek TNG.  (The upside of being here is that there is cable.)

Doing home PT and looking forward to trying crutches next week.  Had the staples taken out on Wednesday (all 55 of them), and the surgeon says everything looks great.

As for my memory of the second hospitalization, I’d say it’s spotty, but mostly intact. I remember becoming aware of the fact that I missed out on an entire 24-hour period (I think it was a Thursday) and at one point waking up not knowing who I was or why I was in the hospital (which was scary) Dilaudid is some nasty shit.  At least I wasn’t acting like a total madwoman the second time around.  (In other words, I was nice to people.)

About ten more weeks until I can put weight on my new leg!  June cannot arrive soon enough.

Blood Transfusion


Back in Hospital; 2nd surgery went fine, only now I’m not supposed to put any weight on my right foot for a full 90 days.  (!!!)

The post-op pain is indeed terrible, and I can’t say it’s being managed very well, which puts  a lot of limitations on what I can do in physical therapy.  When you have one doc in charge of palliative care and another in charge of recovery, you’re bound to find a place in which the minds simply do not meet.  That place is here, in room ***.

Supposed to be getting a blood transfusion today, but what I really don’t understand is WHY.  Two days ago, they said I was anemic.  Now that’s improved, but the doctor insists my blood pressure — which has naturally fallen into the hypotension range (under 90/60) my entire life — is too low and that this will help.

I signed the permission forms prior to even having the surgery, but I find the thought a stranger’s blood circulating through my veins a disturbing one . Even moreso than the cadavar bones they have in my leg.