my surgery date is moved up two days, which leaves me two more days of normalcy to revel in. i called to tell my mom, who wants to take me home to mass for some crazy insane reason for a number of weeks after the third surgery. to make sure i have food and i am not alone, she says.

but this thing, not having something to look forward to. to have to not look forward to something is probably not the best thing for my brain. healthy environments, to be at my childhood home in mass is not something i prefer to do at all really. though maybe i will make a small concession for a week just to get her off my back. and then there’s that not hurting her feelings thing. she’s pretty sensitive..she wants me to go to one of my doctors from 10 years ago for follow ups, ensuring me that my insurance will cover er visits if something happens. i’m not into that so much, switching doctors for no apparent reason. i think in her head she would feel better to have that control, any control. but my home is not there, and although it’s not really in a loft in brooklyn, my home is here–where the people who love me are, and my dog, too.

outside the wind is whipping and the chains are smashing into the billboard above my head. it’s like a box of chains rattling on.

i’ve decided to seek out my former healer before all of this happens. maybe he can cure me of my insomnia. i am literally wide-eyed until 5 am each morning. having eaten one and a half meals if i am lucky. then i wake up at 2 pm because keeping the dog under the covers for over 15 hours is not the nicest thing to do. her bladder is superhuman just for me though.

yesterday was anger and rage. today I’m feeling more normal, so there’s softness again. i wandered through the victorias secret catalog. usually i look for bathing suits this time of year but i think i will be constructing my own clothes come spring. chokers to cover up the slits up my neck. dare i say lame-oh turtlenecks too? and then i started contemplating corrective surgery to eliminate the scars (the huge ones) on my body, specifically my stomach. maybe it would be okay to not have quite so many body issues. i could deal with no boobs if i had a mildly attractive stomach and no huge purple slices through my back.

i’ve decided to try for school anyways. one never knows, maybe i will come into some money and not have to work so hard. either way at least i’ve tried. my mother reminded me i was bedridden for 6 weeks after the last surgery. i guess i have to start eating a lot to make up for the nutrient loss to heal my insides. the worst part of heart surgery is when they take the chest tubes out, which are snaked inside your chest cavity for drainage (like plasma fluid) and is connected to this measuring box thing sounding a lot like an aquarium; it’s to ensure that infection won’t spread and bacteria doesn’t infect as the wounds inside your chest cavity heal. when they take it out you feel it hitting the inside of your chest all wet and hollow, it’s like a freaky ticklish feeling when they pull it out. usually i am heavily medicated at that point but the feeling is so familiar it’s frightening.

i need a friend here to help me do my laundry and some grocery shopping. e is out of town until sunday night and will be unavailable for most of the time until i go in for surgery. my boss is trying all kinds of whacky tricks to help me get along until i come back, provided the rules aren’t against that.

i am starting to feel as if this next round of surgeries might give me more courage to do what i need to do with my life. if i approach them the right way (and yeah, surviving them is the only option). i haven’t had any instinct that i wouldn’t. no dreams telling me otherwise.

i just thank my lucky lucky stars i have insurance. if i didn’t i’d really be toast.