I made it to 48 yo 9.10.19

I made it to 48 yo 9.10.19

It was a good birthday. Better than I thought it would be. Though I had to sleep most of Sunday and yesterday to recover from the trip. Still recovering.

I knew that would be the deal. Sacrifice is part of living in this body now. I have to trade food for sleep. Energy for mental health boosts.

So much sacrifice.

So many Americans don’t really understand sacrifice. How to navigate limited resources. What is more precious than the other, and which one to prioritize at different times.

So many still don’t see it. Where we’re headed.

Delay of long-term gratification. They want, and want and want. Right away. Amazon spoiling us all. Inst-photos, insta-hook up buddies, insta-meals, insta everything.

I feel different. More peaceful. Something major shifted while I was up north. I’m still un-earthing it, still kind of in awe of where it is I’m at now.

Not afraid. I’m still afraid of lots of things.

But finally.

48 years later, I’m not afraid of being my real self out in the world.

If the young people are good with it, then I’m good with it. No patience anymore for indulgent luddites.

As I message with two non-luddite dudes, encouraging them to get together. It’s making me think about how to encourage more med to get together, find ways to bond beyond the surface topics. I want the boys to grow up in a world where there is more of that, more connection, more structure and encouragement for men to have real conversations with each other. I have some ideas brewing.

I always have ideas brewing.

I have another story.

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I'm wigging out 6.13.19

I'm wigging out 6.13.19

I couldn’t remember if I’d given myself an IV bag last night. It was completely blank. I knew I must have because I could feel it in my body.

But I couldn’t recall doing it that day. Do you know what helped me remember?

I remembered writing in here that I was in bed giving myself a bag. Then I started to remember other details.

I think I’m starting to get super scared about my colonoscopy next week.

You’d think it would get easier as I get further away from the original diagnosis.

But it doesn’t. The fear grows. What if it’s my turn next? I can’t help think.

My friend that had Stage 4 cancer last summer got bad news about her blood work. I wish they could track my blood work for ovarian cancer. But I never had increased CA-125 levels in the first place.

My dad is…I don’t know. He had a “good day” yesterday. He had to go to the hospital for his infusion and it took hours and hours. But mom was so glad he wasn’t having his nose bleeds (they have him on such high doses of blood thinners that he gets them now - they’ve got to control the clot problem since they can’t operate on him due to the breathing issues). And he wasn’t coughing as much either.

I said: this is what happens when you’re medically fragile, mom.

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