Jambo Means Hello

There are times in your adult life where you wish you could regress to the days of your childhood. When things were so much simpler, and your biggest concern is if a certain boy liked you, if you could go outside after dinner, or if you caught this weeks episode of Moesha.

I woke up this morning thinking about the children's story, Jambo Means Hello. I am sure not everyone had this included in their reading lists, but it was one of my favorites. Actually, all the books that my mom read to me that showcased black girls were especially fascinating to me....mainly, because I honestly thought I could be one of those girls. Smiling, waving, playing, imagining....living on the pages of these stories.

JAMBO!!!!!

Anyway, I am still in the hospital, but I thought I should share with you guys some of the interesting events that have happened while I was here. First of all, my first Lab Tech referred to himself as BIG JOHN, not just John but BIG JOHN. He was a barrel of laughs and was persistently hitting on my grandmother the entire length of his shift. (ask bout #graciej another day!) He even gave us an autographed picture of himself wearing a ballerina costume. This man was all about jokes. Lemme tell you how the rest of the Lab Techs went down hill from there. The rest didn't say much except for this Jamaican woman. While she was taking my blood pressure her cell phone rang and she proceeded to answer it while she whispered that her son was getting picked up someone and she had to make sure that he was picked up on time. Now, for a split second I was like "the nerve of this woman answering her celly in the middle of being with a patient" Then I got all: it's hard being a single mother, and it is her child, I understand" But then come to find out: She's happily married and the woman picking the child up was one of the husbands girl-friends and she was calling to really be nosy....

The lady in the bed next to me, I am not sure what type of procedure she had but she was throwing up all over the place yesterday evening. Ain't nothing like listening to the sound of yakking. They kept saying there was a chance that I might throw up because of the medicine used to put me under. When I came out of surgery, my skin was on fire. I was scratching all over and it would not stop and that was immediately after surgery when it was literally killing me to talk....but that hour after is kind of a blur. I was in and out of consciousness from about 11a to 2pm.

I have peed like one million thousand times since I have been here. The peeing procedure requires me to unhook my legs from this blood clot prevention machine, move the TV, unplug my IV, gather up my backless gown and drag myself and the IV 20 feet to the bathroom, where I have to ask the nurse to dump out the "hat" in the toilet that sees how much I have peed (a ridiculous amount!). After which I gather my belongings and head back to the bed to hook myself back up. I'm telling you hospital living is the life.

Hopefully, I will be leaving here in the next two hours, and this blog can get back to being interesting instead of increasingly boring and disgusting about my wonderful "tonsil" experience...

....maybe I'll be able to sing after this!