I am now back home resting in my favorite recliner. I am in a little pain, but overall I am comfortable. It is now I have come to the realization that I now have a giant chest vagina. Oh, I am also menstraighting so I need to change my "pad" every day.
I am going through the five stages of grief. Either that, or I am just being a dick.
1. Denial. It's not that bad. It was just a gall bladder. People have that done all the time.
In reality...... the damn thing almost killed me. It went gange-green, and I was almost septic.
2. Anger. I can't be sick. I can't afford this. Why now? The roads are just now clearing up. How am I supposed to deal with this.
Again, all valid thoughts, but my health should really come first.
3. Bargaining. I'll just get back on the road soon. I'm sure they'll want me to get back to work quick.
In reality, I can't drive on the drugs I am on. I can't even do my job with this giant cut in my chest.
4. Depression. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I am going to be out of work for two months, and I have no money. I almost died. I have a giant bleeding chest vagina. Nobody loves me. Everybody hates me. I guess I'll eat some motherfucking worms.
At this point I just need a double dose of Zoloft.
5. Acceptance. I am going to have to face the fact that I am now disfigured. I am going to be off work for at least two months. I can look at stuff on Ebay, but I can't buy anything.
I can only control my recovery, and at least I can go to Grandma's house in April. I just can't eat all the pie.
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