jumping to conclusions . . .

The only exercise I've been able to get since my surgery has been an unfortunate bit of jumping to conclusions.
let me explain.
when I started my blog I had a few faithful readers and comment leavers (as Ash says, blogments). I'm not certain who still reads of those few, I know my Mom is there, and so is my daughter but those two aside, I'm not sure who actually looks at this digital diary.

Several posts ago I started getting comments in some sort of Asian language. Of course, I'm unfamiliar with any such language so I couldn't guess if they were Chinese, Japanese, Korean or any other language which uses characters. Without investigation i simply deleted these comments- ASSUMING that they were some sort of commercial for male enhancement or Viagra. Tonight I got another of these comments on my previous post. again, I deleted it as soon as I saw it. I had just completed this permanent action when Kyle got home and cleverly tried to translate the text online. We aren't entirely sure what the text said, but it was something supportive and kind. I immediately felt like a huge schmuck.

In my mind I am picturing a very kind man or woman, patiently reading through my ridiculous rants and verbiage, writing what likely were thoughtful remarks only to have them immediately removed by a suspicious "conclusion jumper"

please, whoever you are, accept my genuine apology and profound THANK YOU for hanging in there.

post surgical notes

typing is a bit of a chore so I know you will forgive the brevity of this entry.

two notes from yesterday:
prior to the procedure the anesthesiologist comes in and asks me all the normal questions. He was standing there apprising me and asks me "do you think you can walk up two flights of stairs without becoming short of breath?". Now, I'm certain this is a normal question, but for some reason, it quite pissed me off. When i told the story at dinner last night the boys wondered if I replied with a "yes, can you?" or a "I swam 2 miles last night and ran 6 on Sunday" . . . but, no- I was nice and just said, yes. The thing is, you don't want to antagonize the man responsible for your comfort during surgery.

on the other hand, a sweet comment. During recovery the nurse said "do you have little ones to take care of at home?" what? and she repeated her question. I laughed and said, have you checked my age? my youngest is 20. She smiled and said "you don't look your age"

she, made my day.