Thank you, baby, for making it so far this year and surviving the impossible.
The hospital followed me to the local sushi joint tonight.
An 88 year old man passed out tonight after my visit with Jeff during a family meal after getting some tests here at Sloan Kettering, and now this place is swarming with EMS and police. The amazing thing is that this doesn’t faze me at all. It feels normal. Eating raw fish and watching triage should not feel normal. I can’t wait until this doesn’t feel normal again.
Hospital fatigue.
Day 3,642 of shuttling back and forth from NJ to the Far East of Manhattan, and I still feel as if I get the better end of the stick compared to Jeff, so who the fuck am I to complain? But the physical/logistical fatigue is just window dressing for the real issue. We miss each other. Our home has become just an apt again, and the puppy and I are doing the best we can to muddle through without him, but it’s hard. All the loneliness of being single, without the fun parts. But he gets better, slowly, day by day. Trauma focuses the mind and the heart, convalescence clouds your world with doubt and ennui. But underneath all of that is the real engine that keeps me moving right now. He’s here. Alive, and feisty, and depressed, and he gives me that withering look when I forget the minor details that he can’t believe I forgot - again. He’s real, and getting stronger every day. He is starting to grow hair on his lips again, and I’m still so deliriously in love. It’s amazing how much you can handle because of that.
TMZ tells me that Levi Johnston is traveling with an entourage now.
He was at an airport decked out in aviator sunglasses at night, and this German tourist thought he was in Twilight. The guy next to him told her “He’s a model and an actor.” Really.
Is it now safe to say that he’s living the American dream?
I have to say seeing him with Daniel Nardicio today was very odd, since the last time I saw Daniel he was trying to get my boyfriend to take his pants down in an instant photo booth.
He did, btw. My boyfriend is cool like that.
Eagles - Take It Easy
This is what we listened to in the ambulance to Cornell!
Listening to The Eagles, btw. Take it easy, indeed.
We just crossed the entire island of Manhattan, without stopping once. During rush hour. On fucking 42nd St.
Ambulance!
We finally got a transfer to Jeff’s real hospital, and I am currently in the front seat of a state-of-the-art ambulance and we just got cleared to go through the cones at the Lincoln Tunnel to cut ahead of traffic. I feel 10 years old. Freaking awesome.
love is the drug got a hook on me.
i think we should stop being mean to each other. just be nice. it's not that hard.
(via spontaneouslove)
Absofuckinglutely.
Medical drama update.
Miglietta returned from Chicago and saw Jeff today. He is not only impressed by the speed of his recovery, but confided that he has changed his outlook in general when confronted with a case as grim as his was, and in the future plans to be more optimistic about this type of patient.
Jeff made this man, one of NYC’s leading trauma experts, who has survived 3 major disasters in his own life, feel more optimistic about patients in acute trauma because of his strength and resilience in the face of imminent doom.
That’s how fucking awesome my boyfriend is.
Things about tomorrow that I'm looking forward to...
- The World Series will probably be over. Right? I honestly don’t know. Cricket confuses me.
- The mayoral election will probably go into a heated and close recount… Lol, just kidding: Bloomberg will cream Thompson. Then he will celebrate dressed as the Monopoly guy and he’ll remove the smoking ban for an hour while he lights up and smokes a huge roll of $100 bills.
- It will be Day 7 of Jeff’s recovery, which his surgeon sees as a big benchmark. Also, our
angelsurgeon will be back from Chicago, and I like having him close by just in case.
Celts thought that the presence of the otherworldly spirits made it easier for the Druids, or Celtic priests, to make predictions about the future. For a people entirely dependent on the volatile natural world, these prophecies were an important source of comfort and direction during the long, dark winter.
To commemorate the event, Druids built huge sacred bonfires, where the people gathered to burn crops and animals as sacrifices to the Celtic deities.
During the celebration, the Celts wore costumes, typically consisting of animal heads and skins, and attempted to tell each other’s fortunes. When the celebration was over, they re-lit their hearth fires, which they had extinguished earlier that evening, from the sacred bonfire to help protect them during the coming winter.
Time to re-light the hearth fire.
Christian apologists offer different explanations to try to make sense of why bad things happen to good people. Among their explanations for why people who have lost limbs are never made whole by God (also detailed on the “Why Does God Hate Amputees?” website): healings for amputees aren’t part of God’s plan; the lord answers prayers by saying “No”; God needs to remain hidden, and regenerating a limb would display the Lord’s miraculous powers too openly; God has a special purpose for amputees—just the way they are; and God answers the prayers of amputees by having scientists develop artificial limbs. These explanations remind me of my parents’ answers when I started to question whether Santa Claus was real. How does he get down our chimney when he’s so fat? He can squeeze himself down to fit. How can he deliver presents to every child in the whole entire world in one night? He moves faster than we can imagine. How big does his bag need to get to carry all the presents? It’s a magic, bottomless bag. How can he eat cookies and milk in so many homes? He just does. My parents’ valiant but ultimately weak explanations held off the truth for a year, but eventually, like all children, I had to face the truth.
—
William Lobdell, Losing My Religion: How I Lost My Faith Reporting on Religion in America—and Found Unexpected Peace (2009), p. 210-211 (via friendlyatheist) (via thereisnogod)
One of the interesting things I’ve discovered during this terrifying period is that my unshakeable non-faith is just as comforting and sensible to me now as it has ever been. There have been prayer circles started for Jeff literally all over this planet, and I genuinely appreciate the generosity and love behind each one. All of that positive energy has helped both of us. But that’s all it is - universal human energy. Pouring through the darkest of nights to help alter the infinitesimally small particles that gyrate life into something real for us.
The immense gratitude I feel for his survival needs no benefactor to lie prostrate before in order to express the humility of this moment. As always, I am stricken with awe by the horror and wonder of this strange universe, filled with its trillions of tiny moments that create such a large experience for each of us, and made so much more magnificent because there isn’t a simple answer to it all.
Jeff is still recovering, and I am still nervous but filled with hope. And so fucking tired. Only love could fuel a journey such as this.
