Slowly but surely, I am feeling better. Every day I am a little less tired, take a bit shorter nap, can stay up a little later. But every time I feel myself tempted to do more, or push harder, I look down at the various IV holes in my hands and sit down, stat. There are a lot of reasons to take care of myself. But NOT going back to the hospital is top among them.
I am wondering, actually, if there’s some kind of hospital-cleansing ritual I can do to make sure that neither I nor anyone in my family is in the hospital anytime soon. Did anyone else ever use a smudge stick in a rental house to burn out bad karma from other tenants? (Okay, Chapel Hill is a little crunchy. But it can’t hurt, right?) I want to find some sort of smudge-stick like thing for my medical stuff. Maybe I’ll just do a ritual burning of my hospital bracelet and discharge papers. Can’t hurt, again. Sometimes if there is no ritual, you have to make one up.
One thing that’s been a great comfort to me during the last few days, totally unexpectedly: Pride and Prejudice. Not the book, but the BBC miniseries, which my mom actually bought for me LAST summer but I never watched. She mentioned it the other day as something that might cheer me up, but of course I was hesitant. Still, I knew I was being close minded, so I popped it in. An hour later, I was TOTALLY hooked. Now, I’ve seen versions of P&P before, most recently the Keira Knightley one. But this one is SO GOOD! It just sucks you in and you can’t stop watching. Although last night, I turned it off to go to bed and the very end of Mamma Mia was on HBO, which meant going from Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy to Colin Firth in a spandex jumpsuit. WHOA. It was like visual whiplash. Elizabeth Bennett would freak seeing him like that. I know I did.
In other news, this week, for the first time, I followed a baby’s birth on Facebook. Something about this makes me think that Dorothy, we are not in Kansas anymore. One of my cousins was due on Thursday, and after all the chaos of my own hospital drama, I logged in to catch up only to find out she was in labor. Her husband kept giving updates over the next couple of days (she had thirty hours of labor, good grief) telling us about how she was doing, what was happening. Then, when I checked in Saturday morning, the big news, followed by pictures. So exciting! We are in a new world, though, clearly. Will I tell my new cousin Lyra that I followed her birth on a social networking site? Will such things even exist? Probably not. We’ll just have mind melds, or something. Makes you nostalgic for old times, sort of. You know that means: more Pride and Prejudice. Does this mean I will stop watching 16 and Pregnant? And ONLY watch British novels produced by the BBC or PBS? Probably not. But for now, I am enjoying being literary and for once watching something I don’t have to be ashamed of. And lo, it is nice.