A few words about still being able to say...a few words







I just want to be able to look back on it and laugh.

No, wait.

This has not been my year.
I say that Every year, and it's usually true, but this year has so not been my year.

For several years I have advocated that the year does not even really begin until March  I first made this claim in 2009 (Marching Orders), arguing that the Christmas and New Year Season is brutal enough, with family and parties, and then giant sporting events. Resolutions to get over, diets to forget, then it's MLK and EAP, then grounded moles and super bowla and then before you know it it's time for romance, and then the Oscars. All that to do, all after New Years'....who has time for two whole months. let alone a year? I say, we use this time to get going slowly, and then boldly celebrate March.

(from Marching Orders)


Now March, baby. March is a month. March is something you can sink your teeth into. March is the first month that actually sounds like a real word. January sounds like perfume ("January, by Calvin Klein"), and February sounds like a Brazilian underwear model. March is something you can actually do (not that you wouldn't want to do the Brazilian underwear model, but that's not going to happen).



So as I was saying, just not my year. What started in January as a routine rush to the ER (that would make a good show, "Routine Rush to the ER") for an Abscess turned into days and nights and complications and paralysis and nursing homes with memorable food and so on and so forth. Like a bad Channing Tatum movie (ITAOK?) that inexplicably runs three weeks too long, I was finally near the light at the end of the tunnel. Today, in fact, was supposed to be my triumphant leap of faith.



Then last week, on the threshold of my goal, I have to go and get all hot and bothered (feverish is the technical term), and what do you know; five more days in the ICU (I wanted the NICU so I could hunt down criminals with Ziva but they said no) where my family learns that Sepsis is not the neato new hybrid of Pepsi and Seven-Up, and well, back here I am, "grateful" to be in a nursing home, if such a thing could exist. And the new misssion has further setbacks and challenges, (have you MET me?), but I continue to believe I will prevail.

So if we could start the year in March, maybe not even March, maybe March Madness; the NCAA Tournament or something. I'd be very grateful.

As my strength returns I will try to share more stories of things that have happened. Also, I want to make sure I live. I've done pissed off the gods long enough.

For those I haven't talked to in awhile. forgive me. My spirit was willing; my fliesh was weak. For plans made with others to write and collaborate, I still plan on doing them. As soon as I don't die. Which will be any day now.

More later, after I talk to the Angel with all the harps. If he pulls out an uzi, worry not. I'm not wearing any underwear, so the joke's on him.

Hyperion
so-called February 29, 2012
12:11 pm
typed but not dictated, read or blue






When I grow up I'm going to graduate from Bovine University

4 comments:

Jonny said...

"If he pulls out an uzi, worry not. I'm not wearing any underwear, so the joke's on him."

Hahahahahahahahahaha!

Sooo glad to see you back in action cousin.

-Jonny

lisa day said...

ah... now I can breath. You have been missed.

Dragon said...

You big lug....don't scare me like that again. xo

Lisa Bradley said...

It's nice to hear that you're kinda sorta doing okay given what you've been going through lately. I'm sorry you're still having to stay in the nursing home, but I'm glad you're out of the ICU. I hope your situation improves very soon. :)