Seventy weeks out from surgery, and here are the numbers I care about:
- Weight: 234
- Blood Sugar: 98
Down half a pound. It really is the world’s most boring roller coaster, filled with dips and turns that are absolutely expected. Very happy with the blood sugar though. It’s almost like a part of my anxiety and stress has started to go away.
A small part, but I’ll take it.
Before I forget, three things I’m grateful for:
- Friends. I’m literally nothing without them. Mark, Berit, Michelle, and Jeff, all of whom I spoke with yesterday, but all the others too. This world would be a horrible old place without them.
- Writing. I wrote a poem last weekend (two actually, but one was just poop), and it’s the first poem I’ve written in a long time that I’m happy with.
- The good sense to stay off social media most of the day, which either makes perfect sense to you or can’t be explained.
California is heading back toward a shut down because even though most of us were promoted out of the first grade, a fucking lot of us have spiritually embraced that lifestyle and we refuse to wash our fucking hands or wear a mask. Which means no gym. Why does trying not to get sick have to be a political stance? We’ll see how active I can keep with just walking.
I’m good this week. I have my concerns for sure, but things seem to be heading in the right direction. Even though this disease has, as of yesterday, claimed a quarter of a million people, and will continue to take more lives, unnecessarily, January 20th will roll around eventually, and we can begin fixing shit then. Prayer / shout out to god / the universe for the strength and patience to get me through the next two months.
Here, have a graphic:
