So, I did this on August 25th, a week before Z was supposed to return to Israel. Being that I have no insurance, it kind of blew all of my plans out of the water and brought on a kind of depression/anxiety month of September that remains unrivaled by anything that has happened before in my life. I wasn’t able to put on my own pants. Zach was stuck here. Everything felt hopeless and I could hardly eat for two weeks because I had to take so many pain pills because I had basically snapped my arm in half and then had a surgery in which the doctor cut open ten inches of my arm and inserted an enormous steel plate, which, surprisingly to only me, took a really long time to heal and made me feel like a complete human failure for not immediately hopping out of bed and doing push-ups on my new bionic arm. Also, I apparently have a very special tolerance to narcotics, which meant that I had to get ten milligrams of morphine before I felt any relief.
Anyway, hospitals should give everyone who is in for major surgery therapy for free, because it’s good to know what you are getting into when people cut you up.
Things are better now. I work 60 hours a week to pay my hospital bills, but it’s temporary.I don’t have time for much, but I’m wresting away as much time as possible to do the things I love (writing, watching movies, etc.). I have a book out in January. Things are ok. Zach is here with me and amazing as usual. You know you have a good thing going when you can live in a tiny room with a person you’ve known for 15 years and not want to kill them even a tiny bit. We went to Eureka Springs for Halloween/Anniversary/Birthdays and it was amazing and made facing down this two months of crazy work possible.
There is my overshare for the year.
I have a raft of poems about breaking parts of my body and hospital bureaucracy. They might be bad.
