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May. 13th, 2011
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zizes-schmizes.livejournal.comIt's been a while since I've posted, I know. And I'm sorry about that, dear readers, whoever and wherever you are. The truth is, I haven't been too busy, and I haven't been neglecting informing you about my oh-so-glamorous life - it's because I've been in the hospital.
So, your favorite blogger has a confession: I've been having really bad migraines, so bad that I used to spend days in bed at a time because just moving or seeing light or hearing things would make me feel like I was dying. So, my loving father gently chided me [read: bitched me out] to see a doctor. So, I did. And they did an MRI. And they found something. So - earlier in the week, I had exploratory brain surgery. And ... the thing that the docs found? Turns out to be a tumor. [Insert Schwarzenegger 'It's not a tumah' wav here, totally] And it's inoperable. And even if I have chemo to shrink the fucker, they don't know if it'll work. So. Do I stick with the 1-10 years they say I might have, or do I do the chemo and maybe eke a tiny bit more time out of it? I don't know. I have a lot of thinking to do, I think.
The most shocking part of all wasn't even the diagnosis. It was seeing One True Love afterwards. Apparently, he works here. And he'd been told I was here. And he came to see me. Talk about a surprise. And maybe a good one, I thought, considering I've been in love with him since I was 16 years old. I left Dr. Dinosaur, Ph.D. practically at the altar because of the hope I had of reconnecting with OTL. And I really wanted to be Mrs. Dr. Dinosaur, Ph.D.
We talked for a while, I disclosed my diagnosis and then he dropped the bombshell that he was a dad. A single dad. Which, I mean, I know he dated after me - it's one of the reasons I stopped talking to him on Facebook and whatever - it just hurt too much to know that he'd moved on when I couldn't.
I might've asked him to come see me again. And he might've said that he can't do 'this', whatever 'this' is, and I haven't seen him since. I won't lie. I want 'this' to be 'us'. And it hurt when I finally realized that there will probably never be another chance at 'us'.
So, hope? I kind of don't have any right now. About anything. And having no hope is probably worse than just about anything in the world.
Signing off, your faithful blogfriend.
So, your favorite blogger has a confession: I've been having really bad migraines, so bad that I used to spend days in bed at a time because just moving or seeing light or hearing things would make me feel like I was dying. So, my loving father gently chided me [read: bitched me out] to see a doctor. So, I did. And they did an MRI. And they found something. So - earlier in the week, I had exploratory brain surgery. And ... the thing that the docs found? Turns out to be a tumor. [Insert Schwarzenegger 'It's not a tumah' wav here, totally] And it's inoperable. And even if I have chemo to shrink the fucker, they don't know if it'll work. So. Do I stick with the 1-10 years they say I might have, or do I do the chemo and maybe eke a tiny bit more time out of it? I don't know. I have a lot of thinking to do, I think.
The most shocking part of all wasn't even the diagnosis. It was seeing One True Love afterwards. Apparently, he works here. And he'd been told I was here. And he came to see me. Talk about a surprise. And maybe a good one, I thought, considering I've been in love with him since I was 16 years old. I left Dr. Dinosaur, Ph.D. practically at the altar because of the hope I had of reconnecting with OTL. And I really wanted to be Mrs. Dr. Dinosaur, Ph.D.
We talked for a while, I disclosed my diagnosis and then he dropped the bombshell that he was a dad. A single dad. Which, I mean, I know he dated after me - it's one of the reasons I stopped talking to him on Facebook and whatever - it just hurt too much to know that he'd moved on when I couldn't.
I might've asked him to come see me again. And he might've said that he can't do 'this', whatever 'this' is, and I haven't seen him since. I won't lie. I want 'this' to be 'us'. And it hurt when I finally realized that there will probably never be another chance at 'us'.
So, hope? I kind of don't have any right now. About anything. And having no hope is probably worse than just about anything in the world.
Signing off, your faithful blogfriend.
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May. 13th, 2011 10:50 pmjustbeingaqueen.livejournal.comBeing spectacularly vomited on will forever be those sobering moments of a nurse's honourable career.
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