I am like a puppy dog. I keep getting kicked but I salivate and wag my tail for more. Still, I am happy to be alive and am hoping to wave my stupid puppy dog tail for years to come.
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| This frog is a champion and he has my back. |
However, I am an American and have a right to bitch, cry, and moan as much as my strained heart desires. Because I learned today that my heart is strained - not by unrequited love, professional failure, or my cats' inability to find an appropriate place to vomit. My heart is strained because of motherfucking blood clots. 120 bpm may sound fun, but it's not healthy. Am I dancing, you may ask? No, I am not. I am recumbent on an exam table waiting for the doctor to see me.
I cried away most of my day: on the train, at work, and at the doctor's office. My body does not feel healthy and I do not feel normal. As strong as I pretend to be, I had absolutely no control over my tears today.
MY HEART HURTS. and not in a metaphorical sense. IT HURTS TO BREATHE.
The doctor saw me and took pity on me, I think, because I was hooked up to an oxygen tank and still sobbing. Pain sucks. The unknown sucks. And it certainly sucks when you think your death is imminent.
I learned that my the blood clot in my lung was bigger than I was initially led to believe. And the tissue damage was extensive. Why have I had so much pain over the past few months? Oh, because I have a giant fucking blood clot in my lung.
Death does not appeal to me. New blood clots aren't welcome in my veins.
I can utter those words a million times and they won't matter. I am scared, sick, and want a hug.
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