Introvertual

I recall at a very early time, a very early age that I was, to put it mildly, different.

I'm a weird looking dude, and I was a weirder looking dude in my youth.

Growing up, we lived in a neighborhood that had some children in it, but not as many as one would thing, and certainly none within the immediate vicinity of our house.

My childhood was largely a solitary one. I have a sister, but like me, she was sent off to leave the parental units alone as they toiled around in the yard, or at who knows what.

She escaped in books, I escaped in my noggin and in the telly.

I'm not sure which of us fared better with those given philosophies.

In any case, I learned to keep myself entertained and I learned to pass time when there was seemingly nothing going on (much like the shithole that is the US Senate).

So, very early in grade school it was made aware to me that I had issues. I was different. It is very evident that picking on a child is not the only way to hurt them and essentially ignore them in a classroom.

I was largely ignored and if not ignored, I was given pot-shots of the first grade variety. It was during the next three years (1st, 2nd, and 3rd grade) that while I succeeded academically, I was getting the clear message from my peers that I was not okay to them.

Finally, by the 5th grade I had generally sunk into my invisible shield that had very few layers compared to now, but I was awaiting a chance to get out and be thyself.

I thought a new school, a bigger school, would bring a chance the next year. Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh, how daft I was.

Even as I walked into the new school eager to make new friends, and see new people, my dumb ass somehow didn't realize that the old kids that ignored me would ALSO be there and they would deliver the book on your's truly.

My grades went from A's to C's and even a few D's, which infuriated my parentals more than I could imagine. It infuriated them so, I lost the telly for a solid 2 years from what I can recall. They lack the understanding that it wasn't the tv that was causing my shitty grades, it was all the other extra crap.

Between 6th-8th grade I think most of us flounder about, just searching for the end to the madness of those years, I was not alone in that regard. The only fight I ever got into, that I started, came during those years. (Still wish I'd hit the fucker harder).

I went insular in a big way early on and every day was just an exercise in survival emotionally, physically, and mentally.

As high school approached, I again got eager, tho after my first experience I was less-so, to go into this new place where there would be tons of kids. I went to a massive high school, and I thought I would find safety and like-mindedness in even bigger numbers.

I joined clubs, I tried special things, and it all just continued to flop on top of me. I was awkward, I was odd, I didn't talk a lot (still don't).

It was these key years of my little existence that made me the introvert that I am, of this I have no doubt. This was more of a nurture over nature thing. I am on the verge of considering a new resolution this year now that I am no longer sick.

There will be no breaking of this introversion spell, it will be perpetual.

It is seared in, it is locked tight within me. I don't apologize for it, but I find so many don't get it, and they think I am a gigantic asshole (which, I am not...usually) because I don't do certain social courtesies because I find them abhorrent, nauseating, redundant, and just plain stupid.

I am unsure what the essential point of this post was, if there was one, but I finally did magically, somehow meet a few close friends who I now live NOWHERE near. I see them rarely, and we all now have separate lives.

I cling to them, and I fear the day when they go *poof* on me due to marriage and/or rugrats (we are at that age...blech).

I don't even talk to them much, as I don't have much to say, but they are there.

I am contend to go through the rest of my odd life alone and by myself, I now GET it. I am a rodeo clown with no rodeo (I have NO clue what that means, just sounds fantastic at this moment!).

But, here's to hope?

Day 6-7 - The Air Moves

So, day 6 begins we me fully awake at 7am and having listened to a ton of television over the night about P90X fitness training system with Tony Horton (whoever the fuck that is) and the Hair Cuttery ad that would haunt my memory thereafter for months on end.

I remember being awake for a while until my mother and her dude came into the room to see how things were going. And while I was totally pumped that I was awake allnight, she didn't seem to warm to that too well.

I also met my daytime nurse who had the same name as my sister, different spelling (as always). She seemed very energetic and nice, and things went well from here.

Late in the morning the doctor came by who I had originally met at this hospital and he noted how well I looked, and then got to a bit of discussion with my mother. Okay, my mother got into a discussion with him.

All I kept hearing from my not-so-cheapo seat was Heparin this, Heparin that. Apparently there was some controversy as to whether this particular drug that was administered to my small frame was an underlying cause of the problems that led to surgery number 2.

Eventually I was briefed of sorts on the problem, and filed that nugget away for a later time when I could ask the person I really wanted to ask about it: The Surgeon.

Then about early afternoon, I was informed that I'd be getting to move out of the ICU and back to the floor I originated from. Obviously, I took this as a good sign.

Before being moved, however, I was given an air ride. I giggled as I was hoisted completely in the air by this harness thing, and they eventually plunked me down in a big easy chair. It was firm but comfy, and it felt good to move even though I did little work. Eventually, they got the chair turned around so I could see outside the ICU window, and while it was a cold, rainy, day...it looked pretty damn good from the seat I was in.

I was in the chair for maybe a half an hour before the call came that my ass needed to get back into bed, because the movers were here. That was a stinker of a moment.

Before moving to this new floor, my mother felt the need to leave. So, off she went with the dude.

One flip of the switch and back I was, up suspended completely in the air, only to be landed back in the bed. Soon I was off to my new floor and new room.

My old room on the floor was occupied at the time by some two-bit harlet from Vegas. Errr...okay, I don't remember who was in my old room on the floor. I had my own room and it was good-sized.

After settling in and meeting some of the folk who would take care of me, I drank some juice and started watching the sports shows I usually watched.

After that move and all the action of the day, I was whipped. I made it through the pre-game crap (which, I normally don't watch - that's dinner time), I only made it through a few innings before my eyes finally listened to my body and I went to sleep.

Day 7 was a very quiet and quick day. I don't remember much of this day other than possibly talking to my sister on the telly, which it was great to finally hear from her. I was saddened that she didn't make it for the immaculate non-conception, but she has a job and a shit of a boss...so, what can you do, eh?

This was a Thursday, and I was nearly 1 week out from my first surgery. The following 7 days would, quite possibly, turn out to be some of the worst days of my life.

Day 8 will begin around 7:30am and an announcement from my mother that I immediately deemed incredulous.