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Friday, May 8. 2009
Sensitive Tissue
It’s a hot day today. I’ve been sweating for hours and can’t really tell if it’s just the heat or all these medications I take, about a dozen per day, some twice. It’s 81° out there and it will no doubt creep up to 85° by 2 p.m. Still, once my laundry is finished — and provided I finish this — it’s off for my daily walk. In this heat it might only be 20-30 minutes.This is a tough situation: my friend John, in whose condo I reside, just quit smoking. Well, not just quit, it’s been about seven days now, but he’s feeling the withdrawals. You can tell. He’s a laid back, quiet guy, but the edge in his mood is quite palpable at times.
Kicking one’s addictions isn’t easy. I’ve done it, as have many of my friends. We pace, snap in anger, jones for our desired substance and search for things to do in order to take our minds off of, in this case, smoking.
Becoming a workaholic is an often-used ploy. Thankfully, that has never been one of my coping mechanisms. Not in the past 17 years anyway. As a staffer of the venerable Shepherd Express I put in long hours, but mainly because it was a great job: go to music events three or four nights per week and then write about them. Ah, the good old days.
Back when I was young and dumb and full of cum. My lovely sister Cheryl will no doubt cringe at that cliché, but what the heck. We were just chatting on the phone about various topics and she reminded me that when we walked the Beachwalk between Pacific and Mission Beaches I would often have to stop and rest. Not really to rest, she pointed out, but to enjoy the view. The waves crashing to the shore, surfers plying the waves, girls cavorting about in thong bikinis …
See, recovering from major surgery can be fun, invigorating and stimulating! Today though, in this heat, 20 minutes around the parking lot will be plenty of walking. Actually did 35 minutes, and now I’m sweating like crazy. Sitting here completely nekkid, except for the Bluetooth in my ear, patting the sweat off the incision in my chest. Did you know the salty fluid stings? Oh yeah!There are a lot of little details concerning the recovery from heart surgery you sort of learn along the way. Had I read the literature that was sent home with me before yesterday, I may have learned some of these details sooner — like keep sweat off the incisions. Well, now I know!
As little as three weeks ago both sides of my chest were numb. When first noticed right after getting out of the hospital I got extremely worried, but the doctors assured me it was “normal” considering they severed a lot of nerves to crack my chest open. Well, when the feeling began to return to that area it would alternate between pain and itching. If it itched I would touch the skin, ever so gently and the pain was excruciating.
Funnier still, my nipples became extremely sensitive. Any shirt, every shirt and the slightest of breezes would … well, you get the idea. I’m not saying if I enjoyed it or not, but it was a disappointment that only lasted a day.
As some might have deduced from reading this screed over the years, I’m fascinated with women’s breasts. Big ones, small ones, medium ones, naturals and enhanced. They’re all good! It’s a topic worth a long discussion, but modesty and a good Catholic upbringing prevents me from writing about it here. One of these days I should go to Confession.
But this is worth noting: I’ve observed plenty in my lifetime!After a lifetime of observing female areolae, I’m convinced they are like fingerprints; every pair distinct and unique to each individual; no doubt the same for men.
Might be hard to convince anyone we should start a national areolae registry, but we should at least think about it. I’ll mention it to John, give him something to think about, stew about on his seventh day of not smoking. John’s an engineer and he will gnaw on a thought, an idea or plan for days and I would imagine, with visions of women’s breasts and areolae dancing in his head, his mind will be off the idea of having a smoke. I’ll e-mail him some photos for illustrative purposes. In fact, I’ll go investigate the evidence forthwith. One can never be too thorough.
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