I am now uterus-less and starting to heal up. The surgery required four small incisions which were glued shut afterward. They applied butterfly bandages to each one and then put a band-aid over it. The band-aids came off after a few showers, but the butterfly bandages are still hanging in there. I think it is probably safe to remove them, but I have this fear of my insides seeping out of the holes if I do.

Yesterday, I removed the bandage from the smallest incision (minuscule, really) and lo and behold, nothing happened. That did not stop me from dreaming about waking up to my intestines pushing their way out of my insides. Sorry, I know it's gross, but it is what it is. 

Monday I go in for a post-op appointment and to see if I can return to work. I am ready to be back at work- maybe not physically, but mentally. Plus, I do miss my co-workers. As it stands, I have a hard time staying awake for more than three hours at a time, I still have to hold my abdomen when I cough, laugh, ride in the car, lay on my side, turn my head too quickly and say more than five sentences in a row. Okay, it's not that bad, but it feels that way sometimes. I thought I would get so much writing and stuff done while I was home recovering, but in fact, I have done pretty much nothing.

On the brighter side, I have lost about 7 pounds. Not sure if that was all uterus weight, or from eating very little the first week home. I will probably gain it all back by the time I return to work, as I have had ridiculous cravings for Red Bento's beef teriyaki. Jon has indulged each one of them too. I feel like I could survive on just that. Beef teriyaki, rainbow sherbet, orange juice and cinnamon bears are about all I eat lately. Such health food, right. To make myself feel a little better about my diet, I went to the Moscow Co-op the other day and had breakfast. It was biscuits and gravy, but I am sure it was healthy- it is the Co-op. I don't brave that trip for nothing. 

Warning – this post is fraught with run-on sentences and overt sentimentality. If you have an aversion to either of those things, you may want to find a blog to read where the writer is not suffering from a minor emotional breakdown.

I often complain about living in North Idaho. The winters are too long, the fall is too long, the spring is too short and the summer is often non-existent. I complain about the location (too far from my family), the strange people with strange ideas (I don’t believe you should have a shotgun with you when you go to the grocery store unless the butcher hasn’t gotten around to putting down your dinner yet), the ridiculous weather changes (yesterday it snowed, was sunny and rained all in the same 2-hour period and the wind almost blew our roof off last night), and the belief that a community is diverse because there is one kid in your child’s elementary class whose mother is half-Chinese (no explanation needed on this one).

Now that we are facing the very real prospect of leaving the Pacific Northwest, I see things I love about it all around me. Where else would a teenager, with no political interests, look forward to meeting an actual presidential hopeful (even if that hopeful is only Ron Paul)? In what other region do you find a hipster drinking coffee in a swanky café one minute and then turned out in camouflage to kill turkeys or deer or some other innocent creature the next? Where else would the following product sell big? (With the exception of Portland, OR, I am sure Moscow, ID has more than its fair share. I might have been tempted if I rode a bike, but alas, I do not.)

http://www.designsponge.com/2012/02/wearable-planters-for-your-bike.html

Everywhere I look these days I see things I am convinced I won’t find anywhere else (I’m sure this is not entirely true, but it feels that way sometimes). The Bagel Shop that claims to have invented the steaming process of heating their very delicious sandwiches, the sound of University of Idaho’s carillon chiming on the hour or playing different tunes for the seasons, the abundance of dogs walking with their owners or sitting at outdoor tables sharing scraps of their masters’ lunches, the feeling of safety when I send my kids to trick-or-treat on their own after dark, with little concern for their safety in our friendly community, the Moscow Co-op’s delicious vegan cupcakes and how I see someone I know everywhere I go. These are just a few of the things I will miss if we leave.