Things have been a bit quiet here on the blog, and if you
judge follow me on Instagram, it’s clear I’m having a field day eating my feelings…because life is totally out of control.
There’s something really great about being the HBIC (head bitch in charge) around here – it means that I can not write for a while, or it means I can bring you a post like this that has nothing to do with fashion, food or travel. It means I can say, well, whatever I want.
photo credit: James Douglas
Today I’m sharing that JPC will be having open heart surgery next week. He’ll be hospitalized for about 6 days and I’ll be pretty much living at The Cleveland Clinic while he’s there. Things are a bit broken, and this surgery will take care of the physical breaks. Everything else, it’s up to us to fix….so, no pressure (lolz).
I’ll spare you any nonsense of God not giving us more than we can handle and all that hoopla just get down to business. If something this bad HAS to happen, The Cleveland Clinic is the place to have it happen, they’re going to fix him right up (they’ve already done it twice before). So there, that’s what’s up. It’s scary and it sucks and it’s super draining for everyone.
To round it out on the fashion side, JPC will be lucky enough to have some real good drugs pumping through his veins for at least 5 days, so he could give two shits that he’ll have to wear the HIDEOUS DVF designed hospital gowns… DVF, I love you but WHY!? Everyone will get to see his butt when he’s up and walking around, and I’m just going to try my darnest to remember to shower.
For me, the past few days we’ve been at CCF for some pre-op appointments, and it made me realize it’s too difficult to haul my life around in my purse. I literally need EVERY ELECTRONIC DEVICE I own on my person at all times. I also need an enormous water bottle, all the hand cream and at least 37 lip glosses, so I actually think I’m going to USE A BACKPACK while I’m in this. Someone save me from the real life fashion faux-paux that is about to take place and buy me this backpack as redemption.
Once he’s home.. it’s all Nurse Nadine for at least a week…wish him luck – that’s probably the most terrifying portion of all of this, no? Mostly, I’m focused on what I’ll wear. Out of pure humor, do I buy a naughty nurse outfit and wear it around the house? My gut says yes.
When people ask me about how I feel with all of it – I just know that this totally sucks… but needs to happen…Like literally, it’s have the surgery or die, so compared to the alternative, having the surgery is actually pretty damn good.
Whatever I can do to make it less sucky for JPC is where my motives lie. If he needs Greenhouse chicken wings delivered to his bedside on the reg, I’ll handle it. If he needs to stream HBO Go until his head falls off, cool with me. I’m just trying to make it, well – as awesome as having your chest sawed open can be. Will he need some weed brownies and all of the Netflix? Sure. Someone strap an apron on me and let’s get to work (hurry, someone teach me how to make weed brownies).
I even bought him a sexy little ‘bed guest book’ so when he’s real doped up he can interview all of his hot nurses from his bedside, (thanks Banyan Tree) and ask super inappropriate questions. IF YOU VISIT HIM, YOU TOO CAN JOIN THE BOOK.
I’m going to be real – we’re super gangster and this is some ride or die shit… SO I KNOW IT WILL BE FINE. But – if you feel like it, say what’s up… send him a note… hand deliver some of those chicken wings if you live in Cleveland. If you’re lucky, I’ll let you take REAL embarrassing photos with him while he’s passed out during visiting hours. Don’t live here but love that guy? Send him something in the mail.
Moral of the story – sometimes life is hard…do what you can to have it suck less. Party on, people.