karaokegal (karaokegal) wrote,
karaokegal
karaokegal

I bailed on the run. I suck.

I went to bed absolutely planning to do it. I even had Ivan scheduled to give me wake-up call and I was going to get a cab and pick him up, do the run, and then go to the hospital. And I just couldn't do it. If I did that, I'd have absolutely no time to myself and my computer today and then I'd have to go to work tomorrow. It's especially bad because right now I have no access in the apartment. No high-speed AND no dial-up. So again, I'm a selfish bitch, but I need this time so that I can go up there and be with him for the rest of the afternoon and evening. Project Open Hand gets the money regardless and I have enough tee-shirts. But I feel bad anyway.


Hubby is doing well under the circumstances. He sat up in a chair for half and hour yesterday, which he says was incredibly difficult, but he's really proud of himself. He's still kind of in and out on pain meds, so watching a movie with a real plot is kind of out of the question, but I've discovered that James Bond movies are perfect. He can zone out and when he opens his eyes, there's a car chase or something's blowing up or some nookie is going on. Yesterday we watched Die Another Day, and I'm thinking of picking up another Brosnan Bond for today. Thank all the hospital gods for that DVD player in the room.

Weird aside. I think the only one of the Brosnan Bonds we went to see in the theater was Goldeneye. I think I was miffed that Timothy Dalton never got a decent script and Sam Neill never got the chance at the part. I felt after Reilly, Ace Of Spies, he would have been perfect.
And honestly, I never really respected Pierce Brosnan as an actor. Except now that I've seen Mamma Mia, I do. WTF, SELF?

So far no writing on my part but I'll try again today. I know I was working on West Hollywood during the near-death crisis of 2001 and got a lot done, but this time around I'm finding it hard to focus. Maybe because he can actually talk to me when he's awake. I don't know. The Robo-cop leg thing is still freaking me out, but he seems to be ok with it. No word yet on the next operation or anything.

Things are pretty good on the food front. I'm sitting here drinking my Mint Tea without even honey. That's my symbol of commitment. I know I'm free of the physical craving, but damn if my brain wasn't screaming for sugar on Friday. I didn't give in, but the fact that I'm still letting myself get really hungry in between eating is stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.

I wish my father was still alive. This morning, the need to talk to him was incredible. (Of course he always worried that something bad would happen to Hubby on the bike, and he'd probably start lecturing me about that, but he'd still be there for me.)
Tags: hubby, journal
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