Taking advantage of a window of pain relief that can only be brought about by a complex and perfectly-timed cocktail of three different medications, and that only once a day or so, to check in here. So forgive me if this is addled and incoherent (moreso than usual, in any case).
You know you've been in pain for a while when: You can differentiate narcotic pain-relieving medications in the dark by the sounds the pills make when you shake the bottles.
You know you're on serious pain medication when: You invest five minutes in an unsuccessful attempt to remove your bra, because you've forgotten that it's a front-clasp, and are futilely spinning it around your midsection looking for the hooks.
And What's With The Singing?
I'm looking at you, Bella. The waking up at 2:00 AM and then not being able to go back to sleep unless I sing to you for anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour. Seriously, that's ridiculous. Fortunately, tanked up on Demerol, I'm a pretty good show. It's funny the songs you'll come up with, as a parent, after you've run through the basic repertoire of lullabies and children's songs, and you're just trying to come up with anything you know the words to. That means that you, Bella, get lots of Beatles, particularly the song I sang to you the night you were born, the first time we were alone, "Here, There, and Everywhere," and then pretty much the entire Seargent Pepper's album. "Maxwell's Silver Hammer" (gruesome? maybe, but it cracked me right the heck up when I was your age) naturally segues into my other childhood favorites, which my mom would play and sing for me, so we get in some Joe Cocker, Three Dog Night, Ike & Tina (like me, you think that "funkier than a mosquito's tweeter" is one of the better phrases in all of contemporary music), CCR, and of course, more Beatles.
When those run out, we hit the blues. Lots of Ray Charles, the early years. "At Last," as sung by Etta James (I wish), "Do You Know What It Means (To Miss New Orleans)," "Tin Roof Blues," and "Birth of the Blues." You only stopped me once to quiz me about such things as what is a "frail", why are they in jail, and what are they wailing about?
From there, I won't lie, it's on to showtunes. Because these are the songs, aside from hymns, that I know all the words to. Select numbers from "Porgy And Bess" (like me, you love to hear your mommy sing "Summertime," although my mommy did it better), "West Side Story," "CATS," "Oklahoma," "South Pacific," etc...always winding up with "The Sound Of Music." Because once I've been through the entire SoM catalog, I am DONE. And you're usually asleep before I can get through "Climb Every Mountain," anyway. Your favorite from that collection is easily "(These Are A Few Of) My Favorite Things." To which we've added a verse, which I wrote down one night so we wouldn't forget it:
and spaghetti noodles;
Puzzles, and the muzzles
of wee puppy poodles;
Ridiculous songs that your Mommy will sing;
These are a few of your favorite thiiiiiiiiings...
Sweet blue-eyed girls
who give kisses and squeezes;
Hearing, "I love you,"
and "Bless you!" after sneezes;
Knowing you'll love me
Whatever life brings;
These are a few of MY favorite thiiiiiiings...
When the dog bites---
(dissolve into laughter at the thought of a dog BITING, then go on to the next song)
Yeah. You're kinda fun, even in the dead of night. But seriously, can we get some sleep tonight? Like, the whole night through? Please? Because when Mommy's sleeping, nothing's hurting, you see. Let's give it a shot, eh?
And for me, the light is almost visible, just a hint of it, toward the end of the tunnel. More on that later, for now I am fading.