But I got the first real look at the scope of things last night when I made Lex take a picture.
I won't be posting it here because A) I suspect I could be in trouble with blogger for posting inappropriate images and B) I really do enjoy having people read my blog and don't want y'all to squick and never read me again. So, instead, I've taken a current picture of me (or, at least, one from the Nerd Crawl in September) and drew in exactly where the cut is in relation to my face as well as the 27 stitches it took to pull it back into place.
I've spent much of last night and today feeling weepy, lost, sad. Much of this, I'm certain, is due to having been in shock. But I'm also having a difficult time comprehending - now that I've seen it - just how fortunate I am that I didn't lose my eye. I close my eyes to sleep and I can imagine it and that's terrifying.
I won't be going back to work until the stitches come out at the end of this week. It's not vanity. Honestly, I gave up the idea of physical beauty long ago - that's not how I'm beautiful. I just don't want to have to answer a lot of questions right now - questions I can't answer and maybe don't want to answer because the answers are embarrassing - and presenting myself with either a ginormous bandage that covers half my face or, worse, all the very distinct black stitches begs people to ask, "Holy shit! What happened to your face?!"
On the bright side, I am being cocooned, protected, and very well cared for by Lex who has cooked every meal for me, lovingly changed my dressings 3 times a day, taken care of the dishes, and made sure I was eating. He took the day off work today to make sure I wasn't alone at any point.
Modchen and #himself have continued to offer up their services to me and made a much needed run to Wal-Greens for supplies on icy streets in the cold last night.
Peej came over to clean our house tonight after having worked all day - making a special point to do it now, while I'm feeling lost, because she knows just how important it is to have a clean house when you're down and out.
Acr0nym has been working to finish up the first episode of the podcast on his own so that I can have that finished and off my plate of worries. He's also promised to come see me on Wednesday. He might even bring Spux. This makes me very very happy.
My boss and assistant managed to convince a floral shop to deliver me a last minute bouquet of lovely daisies and roses - the day before Valentine's Day no less - in sunny yellows and cheerful white.
Finally, I have Noodle here with me now. He fixed me supper and we're lounging in pajamas and in a few minutes I'm going to get held and everything's going to be OK.
PS As an aside, before this happened on Saturday night, I'd been listening to the 2nd edit of the podcast. At one point, the Divatologist mentions how much she loves her hysterectomy scar - that scars are tattoos with better stories. I talked about what made me beautiful if not physical beauty. The irony is not lost on me.