I am getting out of here tomorrow! Right now, as per the last three days, I am sitting in the OHSU computer lab updating crapity crap. I'm upset at my computer, but I'm sure things will be remedied.
I wrote for three hours last night. Free hand. It was somewhat liberating. I have so much on my mind about so many things, and yet none (augh! I just saw a mark wahlberg look a like. Yum!) of the things that are in my head have any real reason to be written in this LJ.
I'm really excited about this book thing. My only problem is that I look back at entries, and they aren't as funny as I thought they would be, or they aren't as poinant as I anticipated. I must remind myself that hemotological blood malignancies aren't really that funny.
And poor andy. A lot happened with him that would be exposed to the general public. Of course, I would ask him first. But do I call him up and be all, "Hey, how's the band going? Playing lots of shows? Yeah, I'm doing well, OHSU was fabulous and I went back on that chemo weight loss plan. Oh, by the way, you wouldn't mind me selling ten thousand copies of a book that describes in graphic details the nature of our fuck buddy relationship and how you're an asshole who can't commit, right? Yup, didn't think so. Take care and tell your mom I said hi!"
Or, should I put it in writing? " I,________________ (Andrew something Case), promise to let Amelia Laine Worth tell six billion people we had sex and I'm not really as big of an asshole as I appear. Oh, and I promise not to sue her.
Yeah, some how I don't know how well that would go over.
Can you tell how ready I am to get out of here? Leaving the triage room today after my labs, I felt like a new woman. I had my picc out (and in a biohazard bag to gross others out) I felt like I was some celebrity. I had well wishers and I was on top of the world. All I could say over and over again was, "thank you, thank you!" to the nurses, patients, and a whispered "Good riddance" to my Picc, now that it is out.