I LOVE this blog. It’s where you take page 69 of your novel and see if it can REPRESENT #dorksign. I got to do it since A GROWN UP KIND OF PRETTY just came out in Paperback, and BY THE WAY, if you have not gotten your copy yet, put your eyes to the side (the left side) and see all the links for where to get it. (I think I need to add audible links, yes? Mr. Husband? Can this happen?)
Are you back, oh my beloveds? OKAY! On to ORGAN. As in Organ Failure. As in mine. This story’s arc starts with Five Full Plates, a group self improvement blog I dallied with, along with 4 other bloggers/writers. We began in 2009, all five of us trying to Im-Prov-O-Nate ourselves by taking on various challenges.
For more than six months, I failed every. single. one. Yep! 10 for 10. I blew them aaaalllll. Pretty spectacularly and, hey! GREAT idea to do it all publicly. That felt especially GREAT! Super, super GREAT.
Here’s the part I didn’t know at the time. Before we even started, I was sick. I was sick, sick, sick, and getting sicker. I was, in fact, actively involved in the process of dying. I was just doing it verrrrry… verrrrrrrrrry… slowwwwwwwwwwwwwly, so I didn’t notice. I was the human version of How To Boil A Frog. A third of the way into 2010, after an exploratory surgery and a resulting life saving surgery, I spent a year oblivious that there might be consequences to all…THAT.
To me it seemed kind of great to have almost died. Not KLINGON great either. ACTUAL great. It was like a special card in my deck. A get-out-of-dumb-crap-free card.
It worked like this:
Random School Mom: Can you make cupcakes for homecoming? Every other mom is doing it—-not to pressure you, but you didn’t do any LAST homecoming either and you didn’t take a shift at the uniform sale.
Me: Oh! I’m sorry. I was very busy. BEING IN THE HOSPITAL. ALMOST DYING.
RSM: *shamed and chastened* I had no idea! I will make your cupcakes, and why don’t I drop off a casserole for your family? Can I pick up your dry cleaning?
See how that works? Awesome card. And I had not, in fact, DIED, so almost dying seemed kinda win-win. But then….
ONE YEAR LATER
RSM: Can you make cupcakes for homecoming?
Me: DO YOU NOT KNOW I ALMOST DIED?????
RSM: Mmm-hmm, I remember. Jill is doing yellow cake ones. Maybe make chocolate? And can you dye the icing school colors? THANKS!
The I ALMOST DIED Card has an expiration date. Like everything else on this planet. EVERYTHING else.
Me, the girl who never knows what she is feeling—I do not know until I see what I do.
A year after the surgery, or there abouts, I finally did something that let me know I was having all kinds of feelings. The thing I did was this: I fell into teeny, tiny bite-size chunks of gibbering mental illness.
Me: IT IS! We are getting there. It is taking me awhile because I don’t usually blog about things quite so close to home, and I am going to have to use a lot of digression and humor to SUPERDEFLECT MOST OF IT if I ever hope to get to the parts I want to say.
You: Okaaaay, but it just doesn’t seem all that related. It seems more li—
Me: I ALMOST DIED.
You: *pet pet soothe* Have a cupcake.
Part 2 Tomorrow—-And here on the Kudzu, as you well know, Tomorrow is used in the flexible, Klingon sense to mean “Soonish.”