Boxing Day kinda sucks.

I hate the day after Christmas. It's always slow, and shadowy, and anticlimactic. Today is no exception; it has seemed like I was thinking through sand and not really emotionally together. Not an easy day by any means. There's this huge emotional letdown; the whole lights and tinsel and gifts thing is over, and I'm left with torn wrapping paper and stale cookies.

This year's worse. I am definitely off my game emotionally today.

But let's back up. It's been a while since I posted, oh faithful readers, so you need a news update.

FMLA Paperwork is in and approved. My official last day at work is January 15, and I'm not scheduled to return until sometime between February 20 and March 15, depending on how recovery goes. This will suck, because I do not have short term disability. We are going to be hurting for money, and I'm feeling a great deal of guilt around that. I'm feeling even more because we had gotten mostly out of debt, and now -- well, forget it. Despite having insurance, this is going to put us back right into the Magic Land Of Monthly Payments. I'm guessing somewhere around $20,000 total for everything once we get done? But it's a pure guess, and I could be wrong in either direction.

Anyone want to host a benefit? :P

Meanwhile, physical symptoms continue to be what they are. I'm still having vertigo and headaches, and my vision is intermittently blurry. It is what it is, and I'm dealing with it. All of my pre- and post-op appointments are set, and I know about how long I'll be in the hospital -- 3-5 days is what it looks like. I'm planning on getting my head shaved the second week of January so that that's done.

And this week I'm going to get my will written. Just in case.

So amidst all this planning and detail work and careful consideration I'm feeling really crushed and overwhelmed. The money stuff is really scary. The will thing is almost as scary; I won't need it, but I'm doing it anyway. The concept of someone drilling into my head -- yeah, that remains unpleasant as hell. And lately that very slight chance of malignancy has developed its own insidious whisper, just to remind me that it could be even worse...

It's going to be a long three weeks until January 19th.

Good days and bad days.

I had three good days. I shall be thankful.

I had a good weekend. We did the Zilker Trail of Lights with the children Saturday night, and met my son's girlfriend. We had fun Friday night. I was headache and vertigo-free Thursday, Friday, and Saturday.

Unfortunately, they've both come back tonight. I went to the grocery store late this afternoon, and since then it's not been good. I'm trying to fight through it; I have things that need done tonight. I don't know if that will work. And, frankly, that has me frustrated; figuring out how hard to push is a challenge right now.

It is NOT outpatient.

The nice lady at the optical surgeon's office was confused. We can stand down from Medical Defcon 4.

We have a date.

The call came in today.

We have a date. January 19 is supposedly when the guava and I part ways in our non-amicable split. I won't be sorry in the least; between the pain and the vertigo the little shit's been a lousy roommate.

I get to add more panic, though. They are doing this OUTPATIENT. Really? This is my head and I don't even get one night of observation? That kind of freaks me out. Of course, it's cheaper -- and given I only have my share quoted from one doctor and it's already four figures, maybe I should just hush. We're going to lose at least two weeks of my paycheck as is, probably more, and I don't know what we're going to do about that.

So apparently today's theme is 'stop worrying about the date of the surgery and start worrying about everything else.'

Starting to feel it.

It's been a rough few days.

Right now, I'm sitting at the computer fighting nausea. I was loading the dishwasher, and the room got very swimmy for a moment. It was one of the worst vertigo episodes I've had; it was all I could do to not become a close and personal friend with the kitchen floor for a few moments. I know at the time I had been overdoing it for about twenty minutes; I had found out the garage fridge had become unplugged and I had to deal with a horrid mess in the freezer. But still, in the days P.T. (Pre-Tumor) that wouldn't have been an issue. As it is, I'd like the world to stop moving in unnatural ways, please.

Added to that that today has consisted of random, intermittent, sharp stabbing pains in the right temple and it's just been a freaking barrel of joy. Work has also been stressful this week -- nothing is wrong, there's just been a lot of fires to put out -- and what I really want to do is call off work tomorrow and stay in bed all day. What I'll do, instead, is get up, suck it up, and do my job.

I'm trying to count my blessings right now. People are checking in on me. People care about me. My oldest daughter gets here on Saturday, and that's a great source of joy for me. I will have all three of my children for Christmas for the first time in many years. Hell, I'm still breathing.

But it's hard right now. I'm scared of the surgery, I'm scared of the vertigo, I'm tired of the pain and the blurry vision, and I'm scared of the weeks of forced inactivity after the surgery. I'm realizing how much that is going to just drive me bananas. There's only so much daytime television one can watch, assuming I'll even be able to watch TV at all. The boredom may stalk me more than any other recovery issue. I'll need people and things to entertain me, or I'll need to get damned good at entertaining myself.

And once again, in I-Group on Tuesday, I had to do some work about being gentle with myself and remembering I'm not a well person right now. I'm not getting that lesson, either.

There's a lot of challenges right now. I wish I could take a day to just nap.