If you’ve just had a laparoscopic procedure, ask your nurse for simethicone. They will probably have to get approval from a doctor, but the doctor will usually say yes. Most of the pain you’ll be having will be because of excessive gas in your abdomen, and simethicone will help much more with that than opioids. It’ll be a lot safer too.

I’m sure most people are at least vaguely aware, as I was before today, that “home from the hospital” does not necessarily mean “well.” I am acutely aware of it this morning.

Here’s how it currently is with me: Although my temperature is now within what is considered normal limits, it’s still slightly elevated for me. I have night sweats. I’m still coughing quite a bit as my throat continues to recover from being intubated for the surgery. I move slowly, and I don’t have much stamina. I’m a little dizzy. My belly still hurts sometimes, and it has a surgical drain hanging from it.

That said, every day so far has been a slight improvement. I’m moving more easily than I did yesterday, and the coughing jags are briefer and less violent. There’s less pain.

And of course, it is a great pleasure to be home: to sleep without being woken up for blood draws and temperature checks, to eat when I feel like it, to get my own pills, to spend time with Dave and Chili, to hear the rain on our roof.

I stumbled across this recipe on Smitten Kitchen, and I tried it. It’s pretty good. Having now tried three different recipes, I have come to three conclusions:

1. Italian Butter Cookies taste better with a little almond extract.
2. If you’re using a cookie press, the cookies will look better if you use a little extra flour.
3. Baking powder has no place in these kinds of cookies.

Tried this recipe. I liked the flavor of these cookies better than the last batch. They use a different kind of sugar (granulated vs. powdered), and I wonder if that makes a difference in the way they taste. They also have a small amount of almond extract. It definitely adds something, though I wouldn’t say the finished product tastes like almond.

They spread a little during baking, but not enough to be a problem.

I managed to open the jam jar, so I filled some of them with jam. A few hours later, they were noticeably softer than the others.

They were more porous than the last batch, perhaps because they have baking powder in them. It wasn’t a problem, but I definitely noticed them sucking up chocolate and jam.

They were also a little greasy when they came out of the oven. I didn’t like that, but it got better as they cooled down.

I think next time I’ll go back to the first recipe, but will add a little almond extract and use egg yolks instead of whole eggs. Will also stick with chocolate filling instead of jam.

(Are you bored yet? Me too! But I won’t remember this if I don’t write it down in a place where it’s easy for me to find it.)

Tried this recipe after watching people bake Italian Butter Cookies on some cooking show and having a severe attack of nostalgia. I grew up in the Boston area, where they used to be sold by the pound in supermarkets. Don’t know if that’s still true. Haven’t been to Boston in ages.

It was my first time using a cookie press, and it was easier than I expected. They spread only slightly in the oven, and kept their shape nicely. They baked in the amount of time recommended by the recipe, and came off the cookie sheet easily.

They taste okay - certainly better than the stale Italian cookies you can occasionally find in supermarkets up here, which have absolutely no butter in them. I sandwiched a few of them with melted chocolate chips, thinned with a little coconut oil, and found the contrast of textures pleasing. I wanted to sandwich some with jam, but I couldn’t get the jar open. D’oh!

There are several other recipes I want to try. I also want to try adding Fiori di Sicilia. I will report on the results, mostly for my own records.

Someday I will have an open studio again, and then we’ll see if the claim holds up that these kinds of cookies freeze well.

Every so often I remember someone in a movie saying “On a eu une crise d’oreiller,” by which I think he meant “We overslept.” But it literally translates to “One had a pillow crisis,” which I love.

At some point I rewatched all the French movies in my DVD collection, but I never heard it again.

Maybe I dreamed it?

Maybe I had my own sort of pillow crisis.

Maybe it’s French Movie Week again.

Finished reading: A Short Walk Through a Wide World by Douglas Westerbeke 📚 Amazon recommended it to me, and I had to read it because I went to high school with Doug. I don’t remember ever speaking to him (I was kind of feral back then), but we were in a creative writing class together and reading his book led to some intense episodes of nostalgia. And his descriptions of the physical pain that drove the main character throughout her life occasionally evoked some colorful sensations in my feet.

Fortunately, everything that was challenging for me about this book was balanced by the fact that I read it immediately after finishing Masters of the Nefarious. The visual style and the absurdity of Pierre LaPolice’s work followed me through Doug’s wide world, and I thoroughly enjoyed the trip.

Bravo, Doug! I hope you keep writing!

Me: Hmm. Maybe I’ll check the headlines real quick, before I brush my teeth.
The Guardian: You can keep reading for free, but please do consider supporting us.
Me: Um. I thought I had a subscription. Can I look at my billing info, please?
The Guardian: Okay, but you’ll need to re-enter your password.
Me: types in password
The Guardian: Very good. Now, can you click all the boxes with traffic lights for me?
Me: clicks the traffic lights
The Guardian: Great. And can you help me find all the squares with motorcycles?
Me: clicks on the bloody motorcycles
The Guardian: What about buses? Can you show me where the buses are?
Me: clicks on every last bit of bus
The Guardian: Here’s that information you said you wanted. Your subscription will auto-renew in April of 2025.
Me: Can I see the headlines now?
The Guardian: YOU MIGHT BE POOPING WRONG
Me: fucks off to the bathroom to poop in a way that’s nobody’s business but mine

Finished reading: Zodiac by Ai Weiwei 📚

Something I’ve noticed about reading graphic novels is that I tend to let them wash over me: I experience them more than I understand them. I’m often left with a physical sense of the book that takes a couple of weeks to wear off. My physical sense of this book was like being a child sitting under a table while grown-ups talked about grown-up things and drank wine or coffee. Overtones of boredom and irritation, punctuated by curiosity (and a bone-deep defeated knowledge that nobody would be likely to indulge that curiosity).

Perhaps that’s how Mr. Ai wanted me to feel, as the very last panel in the book is a drawing of him giving someone the finger. My revenge will be to shake off this feeling (I hope it doesn’t take two weeks), and to continue being an artist in the only way I know how.

Tomorrow it will be a year since I was diagnosed with CRPS (Complex Regional Pain Syndrome). I had been living with increasingly bad foot pain for almost a year before that, and had become housebound. I was afraid of my shoes.

A podiatrist and a physical therapist had told me that I should consider surgery. It wasn’t an entirely unreasonable recommendation: that foot has an obvious deformity (a bunion). Another podiatrist, who I chose because he preferred to avoid surgery, was clearly stymied.

So I started looking for surgeons, even though I was terrified that surgery would somehow make things worse (not an unfounded fear, as it turns out). The physical therapist I was seeing recommended a practice that was outside my usual search area but within my insurance network. “They have terrible bedside manner,” she said, “but they’re all very good surgeons. It’s who I would go to if it were my foot.”

I’d had to wait six weeks to see the first podiatrist, but I didn’t have to wait long to see the foot surgeon. As promised, the whole practice was terribly cold and efficient. It was horrible.

“I’ve never seen anyone in this much pain from a bunion,” said the surgeon. He pointed out that my left foot was a different color and temperature than my right foot. It was, he said, a neurological problem. He diagnosed me with Complex Regional Pain Syndrome and referred me to a pain clinic.

As horrible as the appointment was, I remember thinking as I hobbled out of the office: “I’m going to get my life back.”

Within 24 hours of the diagnosis, the pain had spread to my other foot. Within 48 hours, it was in my hands as well. This, I quickly learned, was completely normal and nothing to panic about. In fact, it was a good sign: clear evidence that the pain had nothing to do with the minor injury I’d sustained in May of 2022.

There was a bit of a wait for the pain clinic. While I was waiting, I discovered the Curable app. I discovered Journalspeak. I discovered a book by someone who said she had fully recovered from CRPS. I started to feel better. Not great, but better. It was enough to give me hope. By the time the pain clinic got around to calling me, I had no interest in going there.

Eventually I discovered Dan Buglio’s YouTube channel, Pain Free You. Those free daily videos were the thing that made the biggest difference for me. By mid-June, when we had a flash flood that washed out our road, I was able to put on my shoes and walk down to photograph the damage myself. It wasn’t easy, but it was doable.

A year later, I am no longer afraid of my shoes. I can drive and garden and go for walks and work on sculptures. I still have symptoms sometimes, but they are mostly mild and I don’t let them stop me.

In the process of recovering, I have come to understand that I’ve been living with chronic pain for most of my life. My relationship with pain and fear continues to unfold like a magnolia blossom after a long winter. If there is nothing wrong with my foot, then there is also nothing wrong with my knees. Or my back. Or my shoulders. Or my belly. Or my heart of hearts.

Thank you, Dr. R. Thank you, Dan. Thank you, Tamara. Thank you Dave, who took care of me when I was housebound and stands as a witness to my recovery.

Thank you, lucky stars.

“You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes too near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself that you tasted as many as you could.”

-Louise Erdrich

I find myself thinking of this every time I go for a walk.

What if I am just an apple?