See You Next Tuesday

I’ve really tried to keep this top-secret, but exactly six weeks ago today I had surgery.

I just heard our entire nation gasp, “WHAT?” I know. I should work for the CIA, with my ability to keep secrets.

Anyway, six weeks ago today is but a blur. I hadda get up at 4:45 a.m. to be at the surgery center at 5:30, and that in and of itself was absurd. But then they WHISKED me off to surgery, and I awoke, sort of, in this little recovery room where I languished all day. Based on a text I sent my boss and HR

A TEXT I RECALL NOT AN IOTA

I headed home at around 6:30 that night.

I mean. Think of how terribly wrong that text could have gone, given how you know how I am and also how I was under the influence of surgery. Think of the myriad possibilities of things I could have sent that would have been SO WRONG to send to one’s boss and one’s HR.

But speaking of how I am, of the few snippets I recall from that day (another snippet is I asked for pot roast and pudding and got fish and broccoli WHAT THE HELL, WORLD?) is that when the nurse said I might could go home after all and not lay up overnight in the horsepital—as my gramma used to call it—she said, “If you do go home, remember, nothing in the vagina for six weeks.”

Well. Okay. Good to know.

Whenever I’d tell Marvin, my husband, fmr., something nag-ish, his response was always, “Good to know.”

“You shouldn’t kick off your shoes and leave them in the living room,” for example.

“Good to know.”

It was kind of his way of saying, “I have no response to this comment.”

Sometimes he’d embellish it:

“Marvin, no one wants to see black cords in the kitchen drawers.”

Verrrry good. Good to know.”

Whatever, Marvin.

Anyway. The official word that I could go home had to come from my doctor, who eventually said, “Yeah, you can go home. Just, nothing in the vagina for six weeks.”

Verrrry good.

I had aftercare paperwork, paperwork I had CLEAN FORGOTTEN I TOOK WITH ME and is this what it was like to be Michael Jackson once he met propofol? Cause holy cats.

A day or two later I think my mother handed said paperwork to me, and right there in bold letters, it read, NOTHING IN THE VAGINA FOR SIX WEEKS.

Were they obsessed? What’s with the focus on the vagina? Are they all 7th-grade boys?

How often did they think I put stuff in there? Do they suppose I store my loose change up yonder? Do they imagine hoards of people are on their way in there like that lineup of cars at the end of Field of Dreams?

Honestly, it’s not even tourist season yet. Mostly it’s just a few wayward bats RN. Some hieroglyphics.

So today is the big day. The day I can officially lift more than 10 pounds [Disclaimer: Have been lifting Lily onto the dryer to eat for the last 4 weeks, and you know that heifer weighs at least 10 pounds]. I can also bathe, work out, and?

Something vaginal this way comes.

I’m IN ISOLATION, and have no mans in m’life with his intrusive man bits anyway. So all this freedom is for nothing.

I considered creating a poll, so to speak, asking what I should put in there now that I can, but I really didn’t want you all thinking about my girl parts that much, says the person who just wrote an entire blog post about her girl bits.

I think I might as well just leave it be. Leave it as empty as Al Capone’s vault. Save it for a special occasion, like a good bottle of champagne.

Oooo, maybe a bottle of champagne!

Riiiiiicola,
June. Who knows this piece is derivative, given Grace Kelly wrote something similar based on Rear Window.

45 thoughts on “See You Next Tuesday

  1. I cannot stop smiling at this. So I guess your vagina is performing a public pubic service?

    I’ll see myself out.

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  2. Is anyone even in a mood for sex? I would love to know what your readers think. I for one wouldn’t want anything/anyone getting within 6 feet of my face, let alone my vagina.

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  3. Happy you are at this mile marker! Hope to see you lifting 10lb. weights with your vagina soon.

    Well, I don’t really want to SEE it, but you know what I mean.

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    1. Or “Glamma” instead of “Grandma.” I would bitch slap someone who referred to themselves as “Glamma.”

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  4. That first sentence caught me off guard. Good to know. So glad surgery is over and limitations have been lifted, but so sad we are all stuck in our shelters.
    Tee

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  5. Great post, June. So glad you have passed through the valley of the shadow and clawed your way out the other side. Shake the dust from off your shoes and dance on.

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  6. Hahahaha! Great post. I’m glad this, your convalescence, is over. Also too, I once had a boss who called a hospital a horsepistol. At first, I thought this was what your grandma said, too.

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    1. That is even better than warsh for wash. Dying!

      PS Auto correct wanted that to be Warshaw! Bad spelling Pollack, how do they know! (I’m not THAT bad!)

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  7. I screamed over here to the comments because I JUST HEARD – you had SURGERY?!? Let me sit down next time you drop the bomb like that. This is perhaps one of the funniest things I have read on this here not-blog. I will now add “Good to know” to my list of responses. It’s perfect.

    So here’s a story I’ve been meaning to tell you. My grown daughter moved back in with us last fall – long story, I’ll spare you the details – with her two unspayed female dogs. (Unspayed because they are both failed show dogs who were supposed to produce more of their own kind, but failed.) When she left us, she only had the one, but like gremlins, they multiply. Anyway, after dealing with dogs in heat not once, not twice, but THREE TIMES since October, I told her if it happened again I would chop them both into little bits. So she made the plan to get them spayed RIGHT IN THE MIDST OF THE PANDEMIC. And thank god, because one of them was JUST starting to go into heat AGAIN the day she took her for surgery. So we’ve had two convalescing dogs – which was AWESOME because DRUGS. They both need a maintenance dose.

    ANYWAY the reason I’ve brought you thus far is to tell you that, since the surgery, neither of them has an appetite. JUST LIKE YOU1 Had I not heard from you first about the post-surgical loss of appetite I would have worried. (Well not worried – I’m not fond of either of these bitches, but you know.) And one of them was an absolute chow hound before the surgery – we’ll see if she gets it back. They still whine for their damn dinner, but then they just pick pick pick at it. Of course, we have been delivering the medication via the food – maybe they caught on.

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  8. This might be the funniest thingy you’ve ever written…and I have been reading you since the dawn of man. “Something vaginal this way comes.” DECEASED. Are you still avoiding the book of face?

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    1. I sure am. Also, anything CNN or NYTs is doing. I know I sound like a huge FOX fan or something, which I am not. But I have lost all patience with the over-the-top doomsday reporting. A report will say if we did nothing, 20 million people will die, and CNN/NYT headline will be “20 MILLION PEOPLE TO DIE.” Fuck you both. I won’t ever forget this type of reporting.

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      1. So agree on the doomsday reporting across the board. Just give us the FACTS! they are scary enough on their own.

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      2. I was watching my local morning news this AM (KTLA Morning News) and it was all “Oh death and grief and sorrow and murder we are all gonna DIE!” and I got incredibly depressed and I don’t get depressed or suffer from anxiety or any other mental/emotional issues but goddamn, I just wanted to put my head down and cry, I was so emotionally drained. I just can’t with the Doom and Gloom any more.

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  9. I heard of a woman once who was a knitter and kept her skein of yarn up there, just pulling it out as she needed it.
    So there’s always that, if you get really bored.

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  10. Now that your vajayjay is free to pursue a second career, I hope you’ll have a chance to pursue some of the many suggestions you’ll receive today.

    I think you should get one of those retractable keychain cord things that ZIP out so you can use your key and then ZIP back. It’s convenient, useful, and.also too, you get a little Ooo!

    Zip Zip!

    You’re welcome.

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  11. Free at last, free at last! Fly, my little bird. Go and conquer the world…or at least your corner of it ‘cause you ain’t be goin’ anywhere anyway! So glad those 6 weeks are over for you. Hope that you are feeling COMPLETELY healed. Yay for you!!

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  12. They tell you that so many times because – when men see you lying (laying?) around the house like that for six weeks, in their second male brain (YOU KNOW the one) they think you MUST be in that position because you’re DYING for sex. Nevermind, you just had your insides shaken up like grandma’s handbag. So the health care folks put those warnings in BIG BRIGHT LETTERS so you can tell your man to BUG OFF!

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  13. Dear June;

    I don’t know what to say. Nothing like that happens in Canada.

    Love Laurie in NB, Canada

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  14. I am shocked, SHOCKED, I say, to hear you had surgery. You really shouldn’t be so secretive. I’m sure one of us could have sent magazines or offered some suggestions for entertainment. Well, now that the cat’s out of the bag, take care of you. Wishing you a speedy recovery. Also, too, happy vagina freedom day!

    CommandoBarbie

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