Did You Hear the One About. . .

God is a prankster.

My bipolar disorder has been sleeping now for a couple of weeks, but do I get to enjoy my good luck?  Can I use this time to catch up on projects or spend quality time with my peeps?

Well, heeheehee, no.

I get to hiss and spit every time I move my arm.  I get to explore new flavors of pain and the colorful new swear words it squeezes out of me.  I get to sleep through most of the day in narcotic fog and mumble incoherently when spoken to.  Remember, way back when I first got cut open, I said this surgery was a snap?  Hohoho!  Harharhar!

Yeah, that  Supreme Being sure does tickle the funny bone.  Such a great grasp of irony!  He ought to write a book.

When the surgeon’s receptionist called to remind me of my appointment tomorrow, I giggled at her.  I couldn’t help it.  Such a knee-slapper.  Tomorrow the staples come out.  I can’t wait for the belly laughs that little procedure will bring forth.  Hoowee!  My eyes are watering already.

You got me, God.  A real humdinger.  Oh, stop!  Really!  You’re killin’ me!


9 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Sheryl Mae
    Dec 01, 2011 @ 11:48:02

    You sound totally goofy today – could be a good thing. Hopefully tomorrow goes better than you expect. Maybe we could find those old hog-nose-ring pinchers Dad used to have and help the Dr. with the removals???


  2. pegoleg
    Dec 01, 2011 @ 13:57:25

    You’ve successfully talked me out of appearance-enhancing/parts-lifting surgery. Me no like pain. Hope you’re out of this particular dark wood very soon.


  3. Kathryn McCullough
    Dec 01, 2011 @ 18:24:52

    Bless your heart. Sorry you are still hurting. Tomorrow should be FUN! Hang in there, my friend.


  4. Kitty
    Dec 01, 2011 @ 18:35:33

    Love this… “He ought to write a book.”

    Times like this are when I call God… Twisted Sister.


  5. Rev Marshall Wright
    Dec 01, 2011 @ 19:49:06

    and to think “THERE ARE NO ACCIDENTS” and for some reason the human condition would posit that learning is exponentially enhanced by pain.


    Love is . . .



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