al fresco

I have a huge vocabulary, mostly from reading a lot. But since I'm lazy, I tend to infer the meaning of words from their context and their Latin (or other language) roots, so there is a not-insignificant portion of the words in my vocabulary that I would be at a loss to define. Take, for example, al fresco, which I think means "outdoors", as in "in the fresh air." But up until now I've just been going with what it seems to mean, in the context I've seen or heard it before. Hold on a sec, I'm going to look it up...

al·fres·co
ADVERB:
In the fresh air; outdoors: dining alfresco.
ADJECTIVE:
Taking place outdoors; outdoor: an alfresco conference.

I was right. I'm usually right, I guess, since I have yet to embarrass myself by using an odd word improperly -- at least that I know of, so far. That's because I won't use an odd word unless I'm absolutely sure of what it means.

The other day/night when I was blogging some typically morbid thoughts, I had to spend some time looking up "morbid", as well as "fatalistic" and a few other terms that are escaping my memory right now -- but I couldn't come up with one word that meant what I wanted it to, namely, preoccupied with death -- ah, yes, the one that came closest (which is to say, not at all close) was mortal -- you see what I mean? Doesn't have the connotation I was looking for. Perhaps such a term does not exist in English. It's not quite the same thing as macabre... or even suicidal, since it is obviously my own mortality that has been preoccupying me lately.

I'm beginning to think anti-depressants may be in order, and that will be a topic of discussion, post-op.

Back to al fresco: we dined out this evening, at home, and it was really, really lovely. I had a glass of wine after, and some chocolates. After dinner, I started reading Little House in the Big Woods to DD, who was enthralled; I'm hoping I will be able to read to her soon after coming home from the hospital, so she doesn't lose interest. After we put the kids to bed, we watched the Red Sox win (yay!), and then I watched the last half or so of Singing in the Rain, one of my three favorite movie musicals (the other two being My Fair Lady and recent addition/guilty pleasure Moulin Rouge!.)

So this evening was very cocoon-like, purposely taking it easy and avoiding stress. I got up to help get the kids out the door this morning, but then went back to sleep on the futon until DS2 got up much later, at nearly 9 o'clock, so I got some much-needed extra sleep. I'll be in bed a lot earlier tonight -- tomorrow DS2 has school, and Mom is coming in, and there is last minute shopping and cleaning to do as well.

I had a complete melt-down last night, and honestly I don't know if I'm feeling any better. I still have that bad feeling...

One of the conversations I was spared yesterday, I had today, with my maternally insane friend, who told me with a note just shy of glee in her voice about the wife of her cousin who had a thyroidectomy, who suffered severe weight gain afterwards. If it happens, it happens. I know how to feed my body, but under the extreme metabolic stresses following thyroid surgery, and possibly the attendant RAI treatment, I'm not going to sweat anything that happens. If I gain weight I will lose it when my meds are properly titrated after whatever treatment I need is complete. I have to say, though, if I do gain a lot of weight (unlikely I think) I won't have anything to wear. Well, as I like to say: I'll jump off that bridge when I get to it.

* * *

C'mon, sweetheart. Time to go.
--Not yet, Dad. Not yet.

* * *

I don't exactly hear these things -- not like auditory hallucinations. No, they are more like how all the scifi books describe telepathic communication: I "hear" the inner voice. It's weird, difficult to describe. For purposes of discussion I will call these feelings premonitions. Even though that word isn't exactly right, it will have to do.

When I had the premonition that "called" my hysterectomy, what I heard was my own voice telling me, "You're never going to use all that stuff up, why are you buying it?" Or something to that effect -- but it was my own voice, and I've always interpreted it as some part of me knowing that something was up.

There have been a couple of times, though, when the inner voice I heard was not my own, it's my Dad's. When I "hear" my Dad, I know it's because I'm missing him more than anyone and wishing I could talk to him. Sometimes I look in the mirror and see so much of his face in mine: the eyes, the nose, the chin, the expression... it's weird, because most of the time I don't think I look like my Dad, but there are just times, I can see him in me, the same way I can see myself in DD's face.

Anyway, when he tells me it's time to go, I would much rather him be telling me something less final, like "Go to bed," but he never does. (Big called yesterday and very gently chided me; he told me he sees the time stamps on these blog entries and thinks, "Go to bed, Joan!" Heh. No one else ever tells me that anymore.)

No one tells me what to do at all, really, and everything is turning out very well by anyone's measure. So I guess I'm doing OK, and Dad will just have to keep waiting for me, because I have work to do here and I'm not ready to go yet.

Everyone keeps telling me that the everything will be fine, and I suppose they have good reasons to think so. I don't have any logical reasons for feeling the way I do, that's for sure. But there's no logic to premonitions. There are definite reasons to believe that my brain chemistry is already disturbed, which is perversely encouraging... my "bad feeling about this" and premonitions are most likely spectres produced by whatever imbalance it is that has me tipping on the brink of that pit, depression.

I found myself thinking I'd better put together a bag of toiletries for DH to bring to the hospital for me, since I'll be there overnight. I hate packing, but I realized that was the first thing that I'd thought which actually demonstrated that I think I'll survive the surgery. Heh.

Maybe my (internal) discussion with the Lord last night helped more than I thought it did. I don't know if it is up to me or not, whether I get to stay, or have to go. But if it is up to me, I'm staying.