Attack of the Creeping, Crepitating, Lurking Lurgy

Not dead yet-that is going to be an ongoing joke, I guess. Absolutely not dead! But I was poleaxed by the creeping lurgy. It went all around the hospital-that's how I got it. Even most of the nurses were out sick: a two-week-in-bed virus that knocked the hell out of everyone. Ugh.

I wish I could say that I got lots of sympathy-but no, everyone else was sick,too.

The last time I posted, I was pretty depressed. And I decided that I was boring everyone-especially myself- with moaning, whingeing, bellyaching, and kvetching. Kvetching-I heard someone say that recently, and I felt homesick. Kvetching is one of those great descriptive words that is loved by New Yorkers of all shapes, sizes, religions and ethnic backgrounds. Kvetching. I got fed up with kvetching. So I got up, and went for a very long walk. Uphill, downhill (downhill was easier), stumbling for awhile before I managed to achieve some form of balance...I had to be careful, because I had to avoid all the idiots who don't watch where they're going, but I didn't get catapulted into a shop window, or thrown in front of a bus (it would have been very embarrassing: the 43, very downmarket). But at the end of nearly two hours, I felt much better. The depression lifted, and my legs felt like they were going to drop off (kvetching).

I did all the things I was supposed to do the following week: more hospital visits, and now having to plan to have the implants removed. Two reconstructive operations (very painful. More kvetching), and now they have gone wrong and have to be removed. I won't have them replaced, because there is obviously a reason for the fact that my body is rejecting them. So, back to being flat chested. Oh, well.

I remember when I was in college, and all my friends were very well endowed-and I had to stuff my bra with tissues. True story: my friends didn't say anything, but one evening we were out with a bunch of guys and one of them kept sniffing, and started to ask if anyone had a kleenex. I naturally said, yeah, hang on a minute. As my girlfriends started laughing, I reached down and pulled out a tissue. Everyone was laughing-except the guy, who looked horrified, especially when I said "What? It's clean, it's dry, it's warm, what's the problem?"  I dated him for two years. Sometimes I wonder if he ever thinks of me when he blows his nose...

I tried to get online at the library after a week of doing my due diligence. But the computers weren't working, which wasn't a surprise, given that the keyboards were sticky with some kind of biological matter of unknown origin. Gross-who knows who does what around those computers? The staff don't look-it's more than their jobs are worth to make any fuss. In this age of people knifing other people, and throwing acid in people's faces for no known reason, it's no surprise that nobody wants to get involved in any kinds of disputes.

I'm sad about the implants, but I gave all this-and everything-a great deal of thought while I was lying around, coughing and sniffing-and, yes, kvetching. I came to a few conclusions, too. I would rather be flat chested and have no pain-and no cancer-than have breasts and die. That to me is a no-brainer.

I also realized that last week marked exactly four years since the cancer diagnosis. And-I'm coming up to the seventh anniversary (if you can call it an anniversary) of the gentamicin, the gift that just keeps on giving. Of course I'm going to be depressed. I've had a life changing (and life-threatening) seven years. Now I say goodbye to the implants, too-and I really, really hope that this is the end of surgery. I like to feel that I'm turning a corner and not going headfirst into an oncoming express train.

I also realized that I procrastinated over getting a new computer and a new television (the old one is so old it has a slot for a VHS tape, and that hasn't worked since the machine ate one around ten years ago)because I was afraid that I wouldn't be around long enough to enjoy them. Silly? Probably. But I've had the fear that it would come back since the surgery four years ago. That doesn't go away-not for me, anyway.

So I decided that I used to be fearless, and I'm not enjoying life (or living life) by being afraid of everything. I'm working at being fearless again. I bought a 40 inch flat screen television, and I'm waiting for delivery. Now if I can find anything to watch, I can sit in front of it and stare until my eyeballs pop out. I bought a tablet ( touch screen, which I have to get used to, but it's so much better than sticky keys). And-here's another thing- I booked a flight for a week in New York. I'm going back to see everyone before Christmas. New telly? New tablet? A chance to show everyone how far I've come? I can't give up now!

The first place I stop when I reach JFK is the first place I'm going now: Starbucks.  Maybe I'll see Trump-so I can punch him in the face.