Picking up from Wednesday –
The psychologist talked in her notes about her concern with not wanting people to visit during recovery. She said: “[Aurora] demonstrated some lack of insight into how her surgery may impact her family and other who care about her.”
Okay. I kind of, sort of, get what she’s saying. But the people who care about me know me! They know this is me. Even though a lot of people thought I was a bit crazy at the beginning (I think due to shock more than anything else), people totally got on board and understood it. And they were cool about it.
People would be fine. I don’t want to say her concerns aren’t valid. I do understand that surgery can affect families. Of any concerns she’s had, I’d say this is probably the most legitimate. But I also think that I’m more independent than she thinks, and that the people in my life are
a) more used to that than she thinks and
b) stronger than she thinks.
But I suppose that would be a question for my friends and family – not for me.
(Although in the end, even though I wildly care about some people, it doesn’t actually matter how they feel about it. Because ultimately it’s my body, my life, and my decision. People can be worried if they want. I will still love them and try to be kind to them. But that shouldn’t affect if I can give a kidney.)
There’s a whole compliance section in here. And the psychologist said that I mentioned the day I went home from open heart surgery I attended a recording session for my college class and “did not rest as directed.”
That wasn’t at all what I was trying to say when telling her that. She was saying I was going to need all this help in recovering. And I was just trying to say, “Hey, the day I got out of the hospital, I was in the studio. I’m gonna be fine.”
I wasn’t trying to say I was a big rebel. I was trying to say I’m strong and capable. Ugh. At least I know for future reference, that story apparently works against me, rather than for me (in this medical sense at least – I think it works well for job possibilities and random story times when getting to know people … but it’s not good for psychologists, it seems).
Her notes say I have an average range of intelligence. Ouch a little, right? I’m in Mensa, and people tell me sort of often they think I’m smart. So that stung a bit. How does she even gauge that? Whatever. I don’t care. It’s a small point. It wasn’t an IQ test. She can think I’m however smart (or dumb) she wants to think I am.
And honestly, if I couldn’t read her, and I couldn’t figure out how this all works, and apparently I gave all the wrong answers – then maybe I’m not nearly as smart as I think I am!
I’m learning that seeing other people’s perceptions of me can be a bit rough. Eesh…
I’ll pick up here on Wednesday.