“Do you like Star Trek? I wanna watch Star Trek. I’m gonna go poop first, and then we can watch Star Trek.”
“Where did I come from? Did you build me?”
“Is Christopher Columbus a pirate or something?”
“That’s okay; I’ll just pee in the shower.”
After watching 2001 A Space Odyssey (08/18/15):
“I loved that movie! But why did the aliens turn that guy into a zombie baby at the end?”
“People say I look just like you, so that means I’m a Dude Looks Like a Lady!”
“When I grow up, I’m going to be a superhero. I’m going to call myself THE FLASHER.”
“I’m not responsible for my bad behavior because I’m farting.”
On Moby Dick (08/20/17):
“How do you bring a whale to justice?”
“Are hippies people?”
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.