Breakfast Cookies for Russell

Russell likes food a lot. Making food is love. Whether he makes it for someone or someone makes it for him, if you want to pay in to the love bank, enjoy food with Russell.

I am not as much about food, but I did have a Christmas tradition with my mom for several years. We would bake up a whole bunch of cookies and then deliver them to our friends on Christmas Eve. Food in general may not be love, but cookies are definitely love. And, bonus!, I know how to bake cookies.

But, bummer, Russell can't really have very much sugar without his body crashing and doing weird things. And so a few months ago I turned to the internet. I needed to find a tasty cookie recipe with plenty of protein and fiber to balance a little bit of sugar. Enter the hearty breakfast cookie recipe that I modified for better Russell enjoyment below.

Ingredients

• 1/2 cup butter, softened
• 1 cup almond butter (because then I can serve them to my partner Adrienne)
  
• 1 1/4 cups packed brown sugar
• 2 teaspoons vanilla extract
• 2 eggs
• 1/3 cup low- or non-fat milk (because it's tastier than water)
  
• 1 cup all-purpose flour
• 1 cup whole wheat flour
• 2 cups quick cooking oats
• 1/2 cup wheat germ
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• dash nutmeg
• 2 teaspoons baking soda
• 1 cup dried cranberries (because they're more special than raisins)
  
• 1/2 cup raisins (to keep things sweet)
  
• 1/4 cup chopped walnuts (but don't tell Russell)
  

Directions

• In a really large bowl, using an electric mixer, beat together butter, almond butter, brown sugar, and vanilla until creamy. Beat in eggs and milk.
• Mix together flours, oats, wheat germ, salt, cinnamon, and baking soda. Mix into almond butter mixture. Stir in cranberries, raisins, and walnuts.
  
• Drop by heaping tablespoons 2 1/2 inches apart on greased (or non-stick) cookie sheets. Flatten slightly.
• Bake at 350 degrees F (175 degrees C) for 8-10 minutes (maybe a little more). Cool on cookie sheet for 2 minutes, then transfer to cooling racks. Store in an airtight container.

I get about 22 cookies out of a batch, (ymmv). They fit nicely two to a sandwich-sized Ziploc and then they become little take-along baggies of love. I find it helpful to build informed consent before people bite into these cookies. They're super tasty breakfast in a desert-like shape. However, handing someone a "cookie" and having them bite in expecting chocolate numminess tends to result in disappointed/betrayed expressions.

I just finished baking another batch for Russell this afternoon. I was feeling a little off kilter earlier today. Despite the clear and overwhelming evidence, my brain was having a hard time believing it was loved. These things happen. Rather than asking for more external evidence, since that didn't seem to be helping, I decided to create some internal evidence. Clearly, if I'm baking cookies for someone and doing other good things for the people in my life then there must be a lot of love there to be shared around. Whacky logic, but hey it worked. By the time I'd finished eating the sample cookie, I felt all kinds of love. Not so much because more was coming in, but because I was letting more out. Russell's delighted expressions probably helped too.

Don't catch a cough!

Word to the wise in back surgery recovery, avoid catching a cough. Sudden repeated and unpredictable contractions of core muscles does not make for a happy healing process. My back feels more like it did back in February strength and stamina wise lately. This is a source of serious frustration when there's play and sex to be had. On more than one occasion this week, I caught myself "muscling through" pain or exhaustion that really should have been acknowledged and addressed. As soon as I figured out that it was about the cough and not a random back slide, it's been easier to be nice to myself (and admit to others that I'm not as strong as I was a week or two ago).

Also, if NRE were predicted in a Rob Brezsny horoscope, this is what it would look like:

"The planets are conspiring to unleash energies that will touch you in ways you didn't realize you needed to be touched. Any minute now you may begin to feel a pleasurable burning sensation in your soft underbelly, or a prickly wake-up call in your willpower, or a ticklish electricity running through your funny bone. What does it all mean? Maybe nothing. Or maybe it means so much that you can't possibly analyze its meaning. What a valuable gift that would be! When is the last time you felt free of the need to have to understand everything?"

More Pictures

Here are some awkward self-portraits of Saturday's dress:
(click for bigger...I think)
A note on this dress, this dress has a lot of personal history in it for me. It was a gift from the person who introduced me to my community here in Seattle, given to me on a weekend trip together after only having spent 24 hours together in person. It marked a whirlwind introduction, and I was quite pleased to have such a special occasion to show it off again. My body hasn't changed all that much, but after 7 years something about the way I carry myself in this dress feels like it has changed significantly. The pose in that blurry shot where you can see the tops of my boots would never have happened 7 years ago.

SEAF Public Opening Night

The SEAF planning/production team and volunteers kick ass! This is one hell of an event. I'm one of those people who had mixed feelings about some of the past year's festivals. While I was excited to be in the show this year, I honestly didn't expect it to be this fantastic. The space, the art, the program, the tech-crew: awesome!

I got to see even more of the art with Russell taking a more methodical approach to the gallery. I also got to lurk around my x-ray and watch complete strangers react to it. That was fun.

I don't have any pictures of last night's outfit. I wound up wearing the body hose tonight rather than the dress I'd originally planned on. Friday was supposed to be about seduction and texture and the body hose has that in spades. It also gave me an excuse to wear my hair down because I fully planned to flirt and find people to join me in the dress, and there is no number of bobby-pins large enough to hold a hairstyle together climbing in and out of a tube multiple times. When I arrived it dawned on me that dress sharing wasn't going to happen when we were all strutting about the gallery seeing and being seen. So I waited patiently for the after-party to start and planned to have a little fun with a friend out on the dance floor.

Here's the thing though, when the lights went down and the after-party started I realized these weren't "my people" attending this part of the festival. I've become completely spoiled at the Wetspot. I just don't go out to normal clubs and I forget what drunken otherwise overly-inhibited people do when they have an excuse to let go a little. All my alarm bells went off saying I would likely be spending more time whacking people away than dancing. My friend and I agreed that the dress dancing would have to wait for a Grind. Russell and I left very shortly there after (but not before seeing a truly talented pole dancer show her stuff).

Again, my own personal version of a SEAF after-party was my favorite part. I started typing this post before bed last night while sitting on the couch in my dress full of unused potential. When I noticed the post was going to be more than a few sentences to get my ideas out there, I set it aside and went to snuggle a very sleepy Russell. I didn't bother to take the dress off, and managed to get Russell to join me inside. I really like watching skeptical people try the dress and realize how much cozy fun it is. I'll spare you most of the details, but suffice it to say the body hose makes a nice bedtime companion as well.

Ok I'm off to a workshop. Then it'll be time to get ready for one more night of fun and craziness this weekend.

Mixed Bag

In this episode of Mixed Bag: summary of the first massage since surgery, SEAF hair idea pictures, and video of the act Kaylee and I surely would have mastered had we found a third to join us.

First Massage Since Surgery:
I went back to the massage therapist who got me limbered up before surgery. It was just simpler to work with someone I'd already broken in. (During the last massage he gave me, I was wearing Max's collar.)
This was more of an information gathering session than actual massage therapy, though to describe it, sounds more like a scene with Max in many ways. My therapist poked, prodded, twisted, bent and occasionally massaged just about every joint and major muscle group from my neck down. He was duly impressed by the flexibility I've maintained in my hips and shoulders, and more than a little stunned at the reality of fusing T-4 to L-3 without major post-surgical complications.
For the most part we both made it through the appointment unscathed and better informed about my body's reactions to stimulus.
I think we'll actually get some solid work done on my neck and shoulders next week.

SEAF Hair:
Courtesy of weddingchannel.com, here are the current candidates for SEAF Hair. Feedback is welcomed, though I make no promises to actually heed any of it.

Somewhere in my head, straightened sleek hair means grown-up and sophisticated. I don't do that very much in my day to day life.


This one is nice with all the carefully negotiated curls and still a smooth look, if a little softer than the one above.


I think this one has some appeal to me simply because it's so similar to my hair color and texture to start with. Also... Sexy Redhead Back!


I don't intend to stick flowers in my hair, but the complexity of hair sections appeals.


Please try to ignore the BAD BAD BAD make-up in this one. I like the idea of letting some of my hair loose in the back, but not enough to cover my scar. When I can't get past the make-up, this one just looks like a bad prom memory.



Now, the video: My mom (who reads this blog incidentally) sent this to me today. If only Kaylee and I had seen this before my surgery, I'm sure we could have recreated it on our own (okay, maybe not).

The artistry, the classic 40's harmony, the costumes, the... no really keep watching! (1:15 at least)

Public Engagements

I just got home from speaking at a local university psychology class about being a kinky poly pervert (wearing my new favorite Pepper Potts suit just for fun). The class had good questions. A couple of people even dropped by afterward to ask for my blog address, so if you're stopping in from that class, hello and welcome. This may not be quite the content you're looking for, but follow some of the other blogs in my list at the bottom of the page for people who post more fun stuff.

In about three and a half hours I'll be leaving for another public appearance... at Norwescon. I'm not attending the con itself, but Tonya of fetishwear.net asked Kaylee and I to model a set of matching suits for the fashion show tonight. I'm a Norwescon virgin, so this should be an interesting new experience at least.

It wasn't so very long ago that I would have shied away from both of these opportunities. I thought I needed to stay "in the closet" to protect my career and social status. I did adjust my career a little to make more space in my life for these things. Russell brought something up in the presentation at the university though that reflects pretty clearly my new prospective on these things. Society as a whole just doesn't care all that much what I do with other consenting adults. It's that vocal minority that we all live in fear of. The best way I've found to deal with them is just to be myself, happy and harmless.

Bondage Party

The point of this post is "I had fun at a party last night!" There are a couple of vaguely related to my back things in here, but for those of you who prefer to skip the sexier posts, you should come back tomorrow night when I post about my 6-month check-up scheduled for tomorrow afternoon.

After a full day of work, I wasn't sure I really wanted to go to the Bondage is the Point party last night. But, I had a fantastic toy to show off so temptation overcame my lazy butt. It just so happened that the toy also makes a fabulous dress so getting gussied up to go out was quick and easy.

Let me just say that the Bodyhose is worth every penny of the $75 Russell and I spent on it. I'm not kidding about it looking like a fabulous dress. When Max arrived at the party last night he asked if I'd brought the toy, having no idea that the garment I was wearing was the toy. He had a very sweet reaction to my demonstrating the dress's... erm... versatility.

But better than being a fantastically stretchy dress, it's also is a great excuse to get up-close and personal with highly-attractive, mostly-naked people. This is a major win. Seriously, "I can fit two people in here." has proved to be the best pick-up line I've ever used. On top of that, you and said highly-attractive, mostly-naked person then get to be the center of attention while you wiggle and explore the possibilities inside the hose. Extra win if you're an exhibitionist.

Bondage night was not just about squirming around in a giant spandex tube. I also learned an exciting new way to seriously disturb people with a stupid-human trick. Apparently, if someone puts his or her fingers over the place where my cross-link sticks out and then I flex my back muscles, it produces an extraordinarily unsettling sensation. I admit, I do enjoy being able to freak-out otherwise unflappable kinky folks with the mere twitch of a muscle. *insert mental image of me hopping and giggling gleefully at the disgusted reactions*

Alright, time for the Women's Welcoming Committee.

6 Months

As of yesterday, it has been 6 months since Dr. Williams and company cut me open and put me back together again. It's remarkably hard for me to grasp this right now.

6 months?! Really?

Tonight's story actually goes back to just about a year ago.

I was kneeling in Max's dimly lit living room at the end of a delightful date trying to decide if it was time to tell him about my surgery planning process. We were certainly connected a year ago, but not so woven into each others' lives yet.

Sharing this would be crossing into much more intimate and explicitly long-term territory. It's one thing to bring chicken soup to a date who has a cold. It's entirely different to be invited into the preparation for major orthopedic surgery and long-term recovery processes. These are the kinds of reveals that put all that "I'll always be there for you" pillow talk to the test.

In reality there really wasn't a decision to be made so much as courage to be gathered. It's not like I was going to be able to keep this process outside of his awareness for very long. Even still, there's a difference between "I'm going to do this." and "Will you support me through this?" I was considering putting a lot out there on the line.

Then again, that's what we are about. I made a practice of offering him those fragile, vulnerable parts of myself from the beginning of this relationship. He accepted and used every bit of what I had to offer. This was just a slightly more sizable chunk.

So, with my head on his knee and his hand in my hair I screwed up the courage. I told him about my upcoming appointment and tried to present the situation in a way that allowed him to gracefully decline too much involvement without giving the impression that he was uninvited. Just as he had done every time before (and since), he accepted the invitation and held my vulnerabilities gently in the palm of his hand.



The books and bulletin boards I read when I started contemplating surgery all warned me of the impact it would have on relationships. There was this foreboding sense that some number of the people would fail and/or fall away when things got tough. I'm here to say that has not been my experience what so ever.

Not one single person turned away from me when I asked for help. In fact, I have the privilege of adding several people to my list of caring, supportive friends because of their willing involvement in my recovery process. Love has always been there for me, in whatever manifestation I needed it.

Bullet Round Update

Kinkfest: Yes, I went to Kinkfest. Russell and I only stayed for Friday and Saturday, but it worked out nicely for us overall. Here are some of the highlights.

• Quality drive time with Russell. We have some of our most productive idea sharing conversations on long drives like this.
  
• Our room was much better than the rooms we've had the last two years. (Turns out we were directly above Max and his family)
• Eating at Thai Noon. This is the most flavorful and friendly and nifty Thai restaurant I've ever been to. Russell and I were introduced to it during Kinkfest last year and it was definitely one of the big things we were looking forward to this year. Mango Sticky Rice!!!
• Being Max's. Conferences can be treacherous waters for poly families, there are A LOT of moving parts to keep track of in a very small and sometimes intensely loaded space. Fortunately everyone in our respective families plays nice and genuinely wants things to work out for everyone else. I am quite grateful to all parties involved for the time I was able to share with Max at this year's conference.
• Dangling above the ground from ropes for the first time since surgery. While the dangling portion of the scene was not the centerpiece of our scene in the dungeon, full suspension is a very notable recovery landmark. Max is a creative, talented man who had an intimate understanding of the risks and ways to minimize them. I'm not ready to let the rest of my friends with suspension bondage skills tie me up just yet.
• Good sex with Russell.
• Mo Williams' workshop on service. It seemed like this workshop was still in the development stages, but Mo is a fantastic story teller so that didn't really matter. It lacked detectable structure, but once I sat down to record the things worth remembering from the workshop I had a page full of notes and sound-bites.
• Sharing a snack picnic with a friend who also needed to avoid the hotel food. I was both happy to get chatting time with her and delighted that Russell and my preplanning paid off for one of our friends.
• Vendor fair purchase. Russell split the cost of one of these for me. Coming to a Grind near you sometime soon.
• One low-light: The drive home was in some spectacularly crummy weather. There was even snow for part of it.
  

SEAF (ok, mostly costuming stuff):

• I will be revealing the fact that the x-ray made it in to SEAF to my surgeon at the next appointment (about a week from now). I'm hoping to present smaller matted prints to him and his nurse as part of a thank you gift. I don't think they know about or read the blog, if they do I've just spoiled the surprise... oops
• I picked up an adhesive backless bra at Nordstroms on Thursday, insuring that the dress will fit better.
• Russell saw a test run of the dress and aproves.
• My budget for this event grew a little recently. Now I'm hoping to take the whole day before the Artists' Reception off to indulge in pampering and primping.

Physical/Medical Stuff:

• Lately I've been thinking "I could really go for a massage" but I'm not sure there are many massage therapists willing to work on someone with this much recently installed hardware. Most of the tightness is in my neck and shoulders though and that seems workable with a little information.
• The trip to Kinkfest also marked the longest drive since surgery, but that didn't cause any problems for me at all. (Hooray!)
• [edited to add] Oh, AND I made it to the gym the day after Kinkfest even though I had to work all day too. (last week's record wasn't so hot and I'm determined to get it moving back in the right direction)
  
• Overall, I feel pretty darn healthy and strong.
  

Oops, I poisoned Russell

Our tub was gross.

"Yeah right Red, you're a girl, what do you know about 'gross' bathrooms really?"

When I declare "Our tub was gross" I'm serious. There was a black ring around the white space where we stand to shower that blended off to a brown goo in all directions and up all four sides of the tub. I have wanted to soak in a warm fizzy tub for the last couple days, but could barely bring myself to stand in the shower long enough to wash my hair.

Let me put it to you this way: I am less than 6 months out from surgery, my back has been cranky the last couple days, and still getting down on my knees and leaning over the tub for an hour or so seemed like a completely reasonable measure to make my bathroom livable again.

So I traded out my PT exercise routine for a tub scrubbing this evening (complete with being mindful of keeping my core engaged and not twisting).

Just as I was finishing up, Russell appeared in the bathroom red-faced, runny nosed, and not entirely coherent. I was using a new eco-groovey, animal friendly, Seventh Generation Tub and Tile cleanser "Emerald Cypress & Fir" scent. Apparently, one of those earth-friendly botanicals has been identified by Russell's immune system as a terrorist and his body went in to serious allergic reaction mode.

The final score:

• The tub looks much better (not pristine by any stretch of the imagination, but better)
• I'm sore, but more like a good workout than bad choices
  
• Russell is recovering slowly thanks to modern anti-histamine technology
• I didn't get my soak tonight, but now the tub will be ready for me post-gym tomorrow.
  
• The cleaner, while effective and freshly scented, has been banned under the biological warfare treaty of the apartment.

Poly Anna Says:

Last night I seriously tweaked my back by (get this) rolling over in bed.
Poly Anna Says: Well at least it happened last night in bed instead of in the middle of a scene where more could have gone wrong and more people would have felt bad about the consequences. And hey, now you have a reminder that Yes, you are still in the healing process and not done yet.

My back is still killing me today. As in, all the way through the work day.
Poly Anna Says: Really, if your back was going to have a bad day, Sunday is really the best day of the week for that to happen. No one else is around to see you spacing out or demand your immediate attention.

I Say: Screw Poly Anna, I'm going out for a cookie sundae at Broadway Grill. Then I'm coming home and icing my back to within an inch of hypothermia.

Robo-Red

I had an interesting experience at work today.

While walking down the very quiet hallway (I'm one of 3 people in the building on Sundays), I heard a muffled metallic popping sound.

I checked my pockets for loose objects.

I re-traced my steps to see if there was something loose in the floor.

It seemed to happen randomly, but only when I was stepping forward on my left foot. The obvious conclusion was something in my shoe must be making the noise. But I couldn't see anything stuck to the sole of my shoe, and it didn't happen every time I stepped on that foot.

**Hyperactive Worry-Wort Brain ENGAGE!!**

The noise was not entirely inconsistent with something a loose piece of hardware might make. I couldn't feel anything in my back, but there are still significant portions of my back that are numb. Oh, and now that I'm thinking about it I do feel a little more tender in my lower left quadrant...

Clearly I needed to text people about this right away!

Russell, being the clever level-headed boy that he is, suggested I try walking around with my shoes off. I was having a perfectly beautiful freak-out and he interrupts it with logical problem solving. Boys!

I took my shoes off for as long as I could stand it (I am so not one of those freedom-for-feet kind of people) and the sound didn't happen again until I put the shoes back on. While not conclusive evidence, it still seems much more likely that my shoe is responsible for the noise and not my back.

Kaylee called me back later this evening to confirm that I was not in fact turning into "Robo-Red" (hence the post title).
Clearly not.
*cough*
Please comment on my post. You have 20 seconds to comply.

Of Breeding and Cookie Baking

Relax friends and loved ones, I haven't fallen prey to the biological clock, but I do have some observations.

I work in a place that sometimes puts me in direct contact with crumb crunchers and their parents. I've been avoiding this part of my job since surgery, but today I felt strong enough to give it a shot again. (I was wrong) I found myself in a position that required I pick up a small munchkin to insure his safety. If my physical therapist is reading this she'll be happy to know I used all the good body-mechanics we discussed in the process. He was probably less than 25 pounds so not entirely out of my range of ability, but women tend to carry babies differently from laundry baskets. The maternal instincts that forced me to toss him on one hip did me in.

Which brings me to my suggestion for adult women considering this surgery. It's all about timing ladies! Either have the surgery once your children are old enough to understand why you can't pick them up (age 5 or 6), or have the surgery before breeding. Picking up babies 5 months post-op is really really really tempting and, in my first-hand experience, a very bad idea.

My job has also prompted a round of cookie baking tonight. We're having a kind of open house in our building tomorrow and everyone is bringing some kind of treat. My contribution will be Oatmeal Butterscotch and Oatmeal Chocolate Chip cookies (eta: the recipe link). This is the first time I've made these cookies in over two years. I used to refer to them as the cookies of death. However, since I'm hoping that I'll bake enough cookies to have a few left over for Skippy's memorial on Thursday, I'm hesitant to broadcast the nickname too loudly. Nickname or no, just the act of baking these cookies is comforting to my mixed-up emotions. I must be getting old, somebody died and I have a very strong urge to bake a casserole in a transportable container. (I don't even EAT casserole, much less know how to cook it)

PS. If say someone were to drop by before I go to work tomorrow, he or she might be able to snag a very fresh, very tasty (Russell approved) cookie. There's oatmeal in the cookies so they count as breakfast...right?!

Kaylee's a Keeper

My back is chronically sore for the first time in a while. That's not what this post is about.

This post is about Kaylee and her awesomeness.

She conspired with Max to surprise me with a full day of yumminess on Monday. As is my nature, I did not exactly make it easy for her. I'm often one of those people who can see surprises coming long before they're supposed to. If I don't see them coming I have an uncanny ability to create scenarios in which the person is forced to reveal the surprise before they want to.

When I woke up, I thought my Monday was going to be a slow morning followed by noon brunch and girly stuff with Kaylee and concluded by a dinner with Max. I wanted to be able to squeeze in some gym time between the two dates, so I called Kaylee to see if we could move brunch up a little earlier and possibly eat in to save money. She seemed a little resistant to a change in plans, probably because she wasn't as awake as I was, and this didn't seem like the kind of thing worth pushing.

When she got to my place to pick me up, we did our usual doddling and pestering of Russell before leaving. Then as I was getting in the car Max appeared out of nowhere! At first I assumed this was a conicidence. I figured he parked near my place to go to one of the meetings he had planned for the day. THEN he got in the car with us.

The three of us had a very nice mellow day together. Kaylee and I ate silly quantities of sweet breakfast foods at brunch. We walked through a lake-side neighborhood. Then we headed back to Max's place and spent some nice quiet time in front of a fire enjoying each other's company. A truly delightful surprise.

In addition to being unbelievably cute, Kaylee is also the sweetest most loving girl I know. The joy she takes in seeing her loved ones happy is truly compelling. She's a bundle of creative energy that expresses itself in a myriad of sparkly ways. She's also extremely smart and highly capable. Kaylee's a keeper.

I fell down today

Honestly, I've been waiting for this to happen pretty much since I started walking around on my own. I'm not a total klutz, but I do have wobbly ankles and, like most people, sometimes I'm not exactly paying attention to the ground under my feet.

After leaving the grocery store on my way home from work today, I caught a lump in the road just wrong and down I went. I'm betting I'm not the first nor the last person to wipe out in that particular unmarked spot. I landed on my knees not directly on my but and I wasn't going all that fast so I don't think there will be any lasting damage or major setbacks. I did however manage to spread my groceries in an even 4' diameter in front of me. Thankfully, I live in a city full of nice people. Someone held parking lot traffic while someone else helped gather my stuff and made sure I could get up alright. I was not shy about explaining why an otherwise healthy looking woman was just sitting there looking a little puzzled and stunned rather than getting up and trying to salvage her dignity. "I just had spine surgery and I don't want to mess anything up."

I drove home okay (though checking my turns and corners was a little more difficult than usual). When I got home Russell helped me get settled and fetched the groceries from the car. I've been laying on my back since then waiting to see how things shake out. All-in-all if it had to happen, this wasn't such a bad way for it to go.

Back to Work Report

Oh Em Gee my back really really hurts. I'm going to try resting for a little bit, but I'm not above finding my pain-med bottle again if this doesn't feel better soon.

So, besides the post-work back pain, how was it?
I got up later than I'd planned and with a tweak in my back. I seriously considered not going in today at all. Then I woke up a little more and just let things move at their own pace. By 12:30 I was ready to go give this whole office job thing a shot.

I wandered into my office where my office mate was fully embroiled in a writing project. We exchanged happy returns noises, but there wasn't the "Squeee! I'm so glad you're back!" reaction I was expecting. It wasn't a big deal as I know she loves me and there were plenty of people checking in and looking for tales. I didn't get much actual work done. I don't think anyone expected me to get much done today though. Most of the "work" I did today was simply remembering what my job is. I'm looking forward to actually accomplishing something tomorrow.

Tangent about sitting at the desk: Getting my chair adjusted was quite the little comedy. My boss has been using my workstation and she's considerably shorter than me. There were several aborted attempts to sit and/or adjust the chair. It requires a silly amount of core muscles to adjust an office chair. One of the reasons I know my office mate still loves me is she was quite gracious about helping with the chair.

I brought print-outs of the most recent x-rays to work with me and did a bunch of show and tell. More than once people asked "Were you wearing a necklace?" when they looked at the profile x-ray. This is where the long-held kinky tradition of smile and nod came in to play. It's not that I think there would be a problem if I explained more about the collar (my whole department knows I'm poly), I just knew that wasn't the conversation they were looking for.

Physically, I could have done better, but it could have been much worse too. After an hour and a half of sitting at my desk, I needed a walk. Even after the walk though, my back still wasn't happy about going back to the chair for long. I have to admit I'm a little surprised I was so exhausted after only three and a half hours at work. The pain when I got home was a lot more than I expected too. I'll be calling the Dr's office to have them revise the back-to-work authorization for fewer hours per week until the end of the month.

Now that I've had a rest (took a dinner break in the middle of typing this post), I can safely say I'm happy to get back to work. It's nice to have a little more routine and a few more people to talk to in a day.

Making it through the scary parts

A couple days ago, Russell and I ran into one of the challenges I've been dreading for a long time. I think I described it best back in May when I wrote about porn that made me cry. In a pair of sentences, the author managed to sum up the thing I was so blessedly afraid of having to say after surgery:

"I need you to stop fucking me like I'm dying, I'm not dying. But every time you touch me soft, every time you ask if I'm okay, another little piece of me falls off."

After a month of being barely touched and constantly tip-toed around I was going crazy (the PMS wasn't helping matters either). I was beginning to wonder if our relationship had shifted permanently when I wasn't looking. This led to a conversation much more grown-up and less dramatic than the one depicted in the story. We identified the biggest problem: He couldn't touch me much because he didn't know how to do it safely, and I couldn't tell him how to do it safely, because I wouldn't know until we tried. So, carefully, slowly, and with a lot of courage and respect for each other we started to explore the safer limits of what we could do together.

We've got a ways to go in rebuilding our confidence, but I'm glad we finally got to this point. It turns out, I was right. There really was no way around it, no way to avoid it. But I was also right in believing that, no matter what, we'd make it through together.

The Incision

There are pictures linked in this post, feel free to skip the reading and go straight to the images if you like :)

Four days after surgery, the surgeon came in and removed the dressing covering my incision and the wound drains. (tangent: Wound drains are weird things! They are long tubes sticking out of the incision and attached to little bellows-like boxes that collect all the goo that would otherwise back-up under my skin or mean changing bandages a whole lot more. Even after my catheter came out I had the wound drains for a day or two longer. Because they came detached in several places fairly easily, it was like having a pair of Eeyore tails while trying to get around my hospital room.) My redhead skin was unbelievably sensitive. Literally, unbelievable as far as the surgeon was concerned. He kept saying "I'm just pulling up tape, this shouldn't hurt, I'm not touching anything." The nurse who had seen my skin after the last IV replacement believed me when I cried out and tried to explain it to the surgeon, but to not much avail.

I'm really really glad Max was there in person for this procedure, I know I would have completly fallen apart without him there to hold me and keep me focused. Let me just say it's a damn good thing my doc went into surgery rather than gynocology. At least most of the time his patients are unconscious so it doesn't matter if he warns us about when he's going to touch something sensitive. After the stress of the bandage removal, I was really nervous about the wound drain removal. Having them removed was a tickley sensation, but didn't actually hurt.

Here are two pictures of what the incision looked like right after the bandage removal. The first is a wider shot and a little easier to look at if you squick easily. This second one is more upclose for my detail oriented readers.

You'll notice there are a couple bandages at the base still. Those were there to catch what was left from the wound drains and came off a couple days later (Russell was there for the next round of bandage removal, but neither Russell nor Max were there for the final removal on day 6. It wasn't pretty and I think the surgeon felt kind of bad afterwards. That was a really rough morning.)

I don't have any x-rays to show you just yet, but here is a before/after shot of the outside of my back. Don't click if you don't want to see ouchies on my back! It's behind a link because the before was taken after a pretty intense single-tail scene with Max and my bare butt is featured. Look at my waistline on the right side to see the really dramatic change in my body shape. I'm "standing up straight" in both pictures.

Memories of Surgery Day

In less than 12 hours I went from looking like this to looking like this. Here's what I remember about it:
The morning started (as most appointments on this journey have) with a bunch of hanging out in a waiting room. Other patients came in later and went back sooner, but it didn’t bother me all that much because it just meant more time with my family. I can’t say I was in a big hurry to get started honestly. The extra time also gave us all a chance to see that even if my “next of kin” consisted of a group of 4 very important people, the nurses were only going to let one of them come back to the next stage with me. This is a choice I would have liked to be a little more prepared to make, but when it came right down to it, it wasn’t so very difficult. Thankfully I knew there would be no resentment no matter whom I chose.

When the time came, I went back into a pre-op area with Russell where began the unending litany of monitoring my vitals. This is also where I got the hospital gown and was introduced to a nifty new contraption: the hot air blanket—think blanket-shaped paper balloon hooked up to a hairdryer. I met my anesthesiologist (a friendly, practical lady who obviously had horse history), saw my surgeon one last time, and briefly met the circulating nurse. There was, once again, some lag time here so we managed to cycle the rest of my family back one at a time to give me one last good-luck wish. The anesthesiologist poked the first of many IV holes in me and started some relaxation medication before they wheeled me back. Max was the last family member I saw as I went through the doors to the OR.

In the hallway, I was awake just long enough to confirm my suspicions about the anesthesiologist’s horse background. I don’t know why it was such an important observation to me at the time, but it went a long way to helping me feel a little more comfortable knowing we had some kind of shared background. It was REALLY cold in the OR. I was fading fast after the second dose of relaxant, but vaguely recall meeting the Neuromonitoring specialist and the extremely apologetic nature of the nurse as she stuck a bunch of cold electrodes to my torso. I was unconscious before they stuck any more probes in me or hooked me up to the catheter—Thank Heavens! I remember nothing about the surgery.

Waking up was not as smooth a process. I was face-up when I woke up. I remember having full-body chills and shivers. They quickly put a bunch of baked blankets on top of me that seemed to calm things down a little bit. Then I was out for a little while again only coming to when I heard people trying to figure out which room to put me in. My finely tuned “communication error!!” alarms woke me right up. The plan beforehand was that my family would know which room I was assigned and they’d be there waiting for me when I rolled in. When no one was there, my anxiety level went way up. I tried to be patient, figuring someone would go get them quickly, but either my sense of time was off or none of the staff understood my request the first time. I had to throw a first class fit go get someone on staff to go find my people who were waiting and worried about me. This is a part of the process I wish there had been more amnesia drugs to erase.

Speaking of wishing for more amnesia drugs; I wish I could forget how upset my mom was when she saw me. Parents of scoliosis surgery patients really truly should find someplace else to be that first night. Mom wound up staying that night and trading off watching over me with Russell. Do I wish she hadn’t been there? Absolutely not. She did what she’s always done my whole life. Cared for me the best way she could and more than anything else in the world. Do I wish she didn’t have to go through that? Absolutely. I don’t recall all of what I needed from Mom and Russell, but I’m still very glad they were there that night. I just wish it hadn’t been so hard for them.

So, About the Collar

Preface:
Collars are uniquely intimate connections. Even with as open as I try to be here, there's a lot about the collar that will continue to go unspoken on this blog. What I don't want to glaze over though is the fact that making changes on one branch of a poly relationship will almost always have impacts on others. Wearing the collar like this was a big change. The other members of my poly family have given me an amazing gift by choosing the lowest-drama route to dealing with this situational change. I can not say enough how grateful I am for that. I am truly blessed to be surrounded by so many incredible people.

How did Max's collar interact with my surgery and recovery?
First I should start with how I came to be wearing his collar immediately before surgery and during recovery. While Max and I have had a collar-oriented relationship for about a year, this is the first time I'm wearing his collar not in his immediate presence. It's a huge step for both of us, but one we were ready to take when the surgery rolled around.

The Sunday before surgery, we scheduled one last overnight date. As some people might imagine, this “date” quickly turned into a grief and anxiety processing session. Honestly, the nature of the date didn’t surprise us either. After this intense evening, we decided to leave the collar on so I could keep going back to it as a concrete representation of our connection and a source of the same strength and serenity I feel when I’m working hard for him. It worked! The next day at work I could feel it underneath my shirt reminding me to finish or release the last couple tasks on my plate so I could leave early. That afternoon, my massage therapist was a little surprised by the collar, but noted just how much more willing my body was to let go of the tension it’d been holding for the last few months. People all around me were commenting on how calm and centered I seemed given the circumstances.

As helpful as the collar was for my mental and emotional states, it didn't seem like the brightest most practical idea to go in the operating room wearing a chain locked around my neck. Much to my surprise, my surgeon was just fine with the idea. He did however suggest the anesthesiologist might be less flexible about extra stuff hanging around my airway. Rather than deal with back-n-forth the morning of surgery, it just made more sense to take it off in a quiet moment with Max just before heading back and let him put it back on as soon as it made sense to do so afterward.

I don't actually remember when in the sequence of events immediately post surgery Max put the collar back on. The farther I get from that day the blurrier things become. I do remember the power the collar held though, I do remember it linking right in to our connection and opening up to him, I do remember how relieved I felt to be able to push just a little more of my fear and pain back out through those links and into Max's strong hands, I remember feeling just a little more peaceful knowing I didn't have to do it alone anymore.

The collar was also a very practical tool for much of the hospital stay, even when Max wasn't around. It worked like a worry stone that never fell out of reach. I could fiddle and fidget with it when nothing else could distract me from the sensations that moment. Or I could simply tug at it a little and feel Max's hands on my neck holding me and keeping me. I genuinely believe I had more and easier access to the mindset required to get through the tough nights because of his collar around my neck.

Friends and hospital staff took it in stride for the most part. I think I was on my third post-op day before anyone on staff so much as mentioned it actually. Most often I explained that it was a token to help me stay strong and centered. Whether people understand D/s relationships or not, they usually understand tokens and symbols. Every once in a while a vanilla friend would comment and I'd just flat out say "It's Max's collar." Sometimes this knocked them back a pace or two, but my ease with it seemed to spread quickly and calm the situation.