I know I’ve alluded to having had a really rough couple of weeks, but now that things are calming down a bit, I’ve begun to put some things back into perspective.

Also, I did want to say this:


I think I’ve mastered the art of looking good in a hospital gown.

Rest assured, this photo was taken a little while ago, and I’ve since made my way through what was likely the worst of the stuff happening to me personally.  I am adjusting to what looks like will be a new normal for me.  And if I may offer you some unsolicited advice, I’ll tell you the following:

1) Get your flu shot.  Emergency departments are FILLED with people suffering from flu — children, elderly, even young, healthy people who are going down hard.  It’s like 1918 out there.

2) If you contract the dreaded, mutant norovirus, you should probably STAY HOME.  Hydrate as best you can.  It will pass relatively quickly, and unless your doctor tells you otherwise, you’re just creating a public health issue by showing up in the ER.

3) If, for some reason, you wind up in a hospital or ER, I strongly recommend bringing a wrap, your own socks, and the thickest book you want to re-read or finish.  (My choice was Jane Erye.  For the third time.)  Given the two circumstances above, you will be waiting a while.

4) In the event of a Major Life Incident, I give to you two important rules of crisis-management:  first, no one in the emergency room alone, and second, circle the wagons.  The former is obvious on its face, and the latter means that you are the boss of your personal information.  You have permission to give out information as you see fit; to include people on your comms list as you want and be completely unapologetic about it.

I am grateful that I was not alone during my experience. I am also incredibly thankful that after all these years of living with a silent disease, I’ve at least learned to put on mascara before going to the hospital.  For what it’s worth, it may or may not have meant that the CT techs let me jump the queue at least once because I was “a movie star.”

And that’s how a little waterproof, smudgeproof went a long, long way.


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