I did the class on blogs and learned I should entitle these entries such innocuous and flowery shit, but I still have a tendency towards poetry, though a lot of it has been washed out of my mind with those big surgeries I had in 2006. I forgot to mention one of my exes from NYC wrote me a few months ago as he had found one of my poems in storage, one of my cocktail napkin poems, that is–and decided to come find me on Facebook. It was a pure nostalgic check-in, I assume, because we did not become friends there, he just messaged me through the messenger. No idea how, though, as I keep that shit locked down. This was August, though, and I left the shit show that is Facebook from the end of October to the middle of December. I am not sure if I should have ever come back, to be quite honest. I still happen to know more about what is going on with the world given my copious news consumption–people still share shit as new I read about weeks ago. The fury and hyperbole driving things is still very relevant, as is the fact, that at some point, it will be a literal graveyard, with the dead outnumbering the living. I won’t be there when that happens. I will make sure my only internet remnant would be this blog, because, yeah. NO. My terms, people, MY TERMS.

Yesterday I spent largely in bed, save the three times I got up to take the dog out to pee etc. Don got mad at me for not cleaning which made me HAVE to tell him the reason I found that surgeon in October was because once again, my intuition has led me to conclude I am somewhat fucked right now. The valve, sure, we would love some fucking time to plan for the valve. Sure, of course, and I AM trying my best. But, I know, I mean, I get these sneaking pains every once in a while and yesterday it was kind of an all day thing. My neck and my shoulder were not well, the pain was maybe a level 6 out of 10–and I had to prepare myself mentally for it possibly getting worse, and so I had to tell him the name of the hospital in DC to take me to–this is hospital 8 I have ever dealt with, and the 5th for a major planned surgery since Mt Sinai got me for 3. So MedStar, DC is the new one, and I found a rockstar surgeon, my cadillac surgeon I have mentioned. This will likely be a different hospital than the hysterectomy one, but I guess that all comes down to timing. ANYWAYS, so I told him where to drive me as an ambulance will not be driving me across the bridge from Alexandria to DC–but the pain was with me for the whole day.

So I did what you do when you are stuck in bed, I bitched on Twitter about how fucking selfish everyone was to not be able to forgo Christmas for ONE WHOLE YEAR so I could feel comfortable going to the hospital as I realized my cardiac ICU bed probably had someone in it. I told my cousin what was going on as I am not really going to talk to anyone else about it right now but Don, because yes, I MOVED DURING A PANDEMIC AND HAVE NO FUCKING FRIENDS HERE. Anyways, yes, I am hoping that sometime in February some of the mess from New Years and Christmas might have worked itself out–even March or April, I guess. Thinking back on the whens of my surgeries–never in the Summer, nope. Always the coldest months of wherever I a mm–October Mass, March, Mass, April NYC, February CO, and whatever this might be. Don asked me if we should go to the hospital and I said, nah. I know when it’s time. I mean JFC after how many times I definitely KNOW when it’s time. And so no. I asked him, do you suffocate when you drown. He says, yes. So I say well, I do not want to suffocate without breath in the hospital due to corona. I would rather die of a heart attack–I mean shit, the corona seems to be acting a hell of a lot like my gene defect with my own blood vessels. A double dose of that introduced into a body already reeling from vessel issues would just be a messy painful end. So I decided, if I cannot wait a few months until the hospital capacity opens up, well, I guess I get to die of actual heart problems.

So today I woke up and voila. No big neck or shoulder pain. It is now a 2. I can work with a 2. Hell I can even clean with a 2 since I think I have had the 2 for a good 9 months now. So today, today I told him I am feeling better and I just hope whatever bullshit neck and back pain I have had since Christmas wanes a bit away so I can actually live through my 2027 prediction. If I don’t, well, I fucking tried people. I really tried. And that is all I can ask of myself. I am not some superhuman fucking magical thing. I am just a person who has had to chew through a lot of literal shit to just survive this life. Never thrive, fuck no, no lottery wins and easy breezing for me, just bare bones base level survival so I can middle finger the universe for continuously testing my tolerances.

And really? Fuck you, universe. I never did shit to you. I just am a really fucking nice person who does the things you should do when you want good things to happen. This whole karma thing is proving to me daily–karma is what suckers use to feel better about getting fucked over. Not sure if I shared that before–I realized it a few months ago, much to Don’s delight. Ugh…and now that shoulder pain is starting to creep back but it’s the top right shoulder so nothing crazy to entertain right now. Make it a good day, party people. None of us know how many we really have left….