This might get kind of graphic, but most of my writing gets kind of graphic, now, doesn’t it?
So, I didn’t get home until around 4 o’clock this morning. Not because I was at a rave or something, because I was at Queens General Hospital in the emergency room.
“Oh, No! Are you OK!?” you might be thinking.
The answer being: yes and no. You see I had to go to the emergency room from around 9 pm until 3:45 the next morning because of a pain in the ass, quite literally. I am not at all accustomed to how much hemorrhoids can fucking hurt. seriously, it feels like someone has taken a blowtorch to my butt hole. heavenly god, man, I am not kidding.
What did they tell me at the hospital? oh, just what I already know: I don’t eat enough fruit and vegetables. the same thing my friends and my mom tell me.
so, now I've lost all of yesterday’s gambling winnings to 1) having to take a Lyft home from the emergency room and 2) having to go buy all of the over the counter things I need so that i’m not screaming bloody murder from the horrible pain in my nether region. I did get some candy, too, I need something to enjoy in my time of suffering.
Just to exacerbate my misery, I woke up to zero coffee, due to my broken French press (which I will replace when I move, any day now). Not only did I wake up to a lack of morning brew, I also woke up to a very foul smell in my room, which I had to tear apart to reveal a the corpse of a mouse, just decomposing right behind my headboard. Naturally, this made me vomit, which is not the optimum way to start one’s day. I removed it, threw it in the trash and quickly took the trash out to the dumpster before it could make me throw up again. I did eventually get a coffee at the worst bodega in New York (aka the one across the street from my building), so that I could carry my tired, inflamed behind to family dollar to acquire the number of remedies recommended by the nurse last night during my ER visit.
I don’t really have time to be as tired as I am right now, I have shit to do. I have to pack up all of my belongings so that i’m ready to move, whenever my housing agency decides to drop that on me. It’s from my mother, I like plans, I want things to be planned and I want to be prepared for them. I cannot stand just randomly doing things on a dime, it makes me endlessly anxious. I wasn’t going to even write about anything today, but this is kind of humorous (I think), and if I don’t have a chuckle I might get all wrapped up in the suffering. You have to laugh at life knocking you down a few pegs, after a rather sizeable stroke of luck.
I will say, today’s research and development of AI tools to scare up a few bucks is cancelled. Whether or not I’ll be preparing for my moving day is yet to be seen.
Oh yes, speaking of my meticulous planner of a mother: she is also in the hospital as of late last night for things related to her recent diagnosis of ulcerative colitis. So, may I just ask that you keep my family and our lower digestive tracts in your prayers.
I’m going to eat a dozen bananas and 6 apples or something, later, but I do forecast an afternoon nap first.