My "Vacation"

Went away for a few days on doctor's orders...apparently the lack of eyesight, double vision when that dissipated, and having passed out into an "absence" (and the fact that I didn't fight people pulling me into a wheel chair and couldn't have cared less that people decided to talk for me when I tried--- my mother even reorganized my purse--- hey!) meant that I should take time out. So into the country (aka back into hell) did I go. How restful. I was shown how to work a shower head, how to run a microwave, and there was a tussle over Grandma's cheesecake recipe (I am now going to make it just to prove it... how am I responsible for the fact that her hand-written recipe is different than the one on a Kool Whip container?) "You can tell you're loved," the nurse said "You're a pretty girl,"... blah blah--- hi, I'm in pain, can't see, can't control myself and my movements, and if I'm allowing people to pull me and put me any place they please, or talk for me (Was it absolutely necessary to inform everyone at Mercy that I have eating issues?!) if I can drop trou and piddle into a pan without blushing... (I had to pee...because I was on IVs and vaccu tainers, I was sort of stuck. Arm & vein a bit swollen, bruising not as bad as it was... But I got them back... when I gotta go, I go. A lot) there's something wrong. And through it all, they couldn't understand HOW I was stressed out?! But on the way home, I stopped at what is a good winery (I think the reason wine is so good in Chautauqua isn't the grapes itself... it's the god awfulness of everything else) and picked up a bottle of my favorite Merrit Wine, the Strawberry Festival wine. (The festivities are next week... and I must say, since I sampled some (at the winery---you taste before you buy) on the way home. I'll open my bottle to celebrate--- something.) Dixie, Mom's dog, kept on me, and pretty much grabbed my leg when I went too fast for her liking. Duke, the winery's 1 year old, 100 pound Italian mastiff, greeted me and just laid his huge head on my thigh. I was puppy-loved.

Seriously, though... after attempting to ensure that Mom & grandkids got to talk (using a sticky DSL connection at that) and the fun of "casual racism as only those born pre-1950 can provide)--- sheesh...after all of that... I can say "I love you all. But I need a rest so I can recover from all that relaxation." (Or, "if that's love, can you just hate me, please?")