I just took my first shower in twelve days, having had surgery eleven days ago. If you’ve been keeping up with this blog you know that the fibroids started out in 2011 as a joke. That progressed to “oh damn” levels of pain, combined with healthy doses of sarcasm. About six months ago, I found out the fibroid needed to be surgically removed and like Morrissey said, “that joke isn’t funny anymore.”

Forced to take responsibility for myself, which can still be challenging as a forty-one year-old, I spent months fighting for the right insurance to get into the only hospital I’ve ever been to, Cedar Sinai in Los Angeles. I became a beaurocrat. I fought paper with more paper and I out mailed ’em.

But once I had that sorted I had nothing but time to freak the fuck out. I promptly began stockpiling food, water, cat litter, and hauling it up the three flights of stairs to my apartment. By preparing and exerting tons of controlled discipline on my life I hoped to control my fears. It didn’t work, but I readied the house as best as I could, figuring out how to move around without the use of my core, fortuanately it was cost prohibitive for me to install bars on the walls and a pulley over the bed.

I’ve always been more comfortable to give than to get, to care for than to be cared for and to be needed more than to be in need. Now, nearly two weeks since my surgery, I’m home nursing an abdominal incision and having my mind blown by the generosity of my friends. A self professed recluse, in recent years I have become notoriously private, even from the people I love, and I’ve had more visitors in the last week than in all three years combined since I moved into this apartment.

Prone to saying, “I got it” and “Don’t worry about it”, I don’t know how to ask for help, because it’s not a muscle I like to use, but recently I’ve had to ask, and accept it, and the funniest thing has happened. The only cure to this isolating self-suffieciency that I suffer from is to ask for help. That’s it. Just ask for help, without shame I say, “Hey I don’t have the answer, I can’t carry this weight, can you please help me?” And low and behold the help comes and the isolation and fear leaves.

I’ve got dog people cleaning that cat box, I’ve got vegans bringing steaks, I’ve got flowers, cleaning ladies and groceries being sent from friends who can’t be here with me. It’s amazing, humbling and most incredibly it’s forcing a change in perception. My feelings inside don’t match up with what’s happening outside. It’s undeniable, I can see it. I know I am taken care of every time I hear one of my friends unlocking my deadbolt to check on me. This surgery has forced a shift in perspective that I could not have predicted.

To have been wrong about my place in the world is amazing. I had the flux capacitor, I just didn’t have any plutonium, and they’ve been droppin’ off plutonium all week. So alright, now I’m back to the future.

Katja, Beth, Brandi, Ker-Bear, Yoon, Anne, Sam, Cynthia, Camille, Lindsey, Lesley , Autumn, Mau, Benji, POD & KBAOD thank you for making it easy to ask for help.  XXOO