And now you know what my failure is in keeping a blog. I run out of things to say or share. If you follow me on the Twitter, you’d absolutely tell me I was full of it. Maybe I am. I think it’s more that I seem to compartmentalize each platform and one is easier to just jot random thoughts down and keep it within a limit as opposed to composing here.

I just get so bored. Sometimes I feel like I’m on a rollercoaster. There are some days I’m feeling pretty good about things, and others I feel like I’m in despair.

Earlier, I was sharing an anecdote with two of my closest childhood friends. Literally, we have been friends, or rather extended family since grade school. We share all sorts of fun things and so I share about that one time I was in surgery and I woke up. I was in the theater because I had nearly died from sepsis, I had miraculously pulled through, and after a week of being on machines I needed to be sewn back up.

I somehow opened my eyes, and I looked up, and I imeediately knew where I was. Every time I had been admitted to this hospital, I had always made sure to look up and take note of something that could tell me where I was. And then I heard the weirdest thing. It was my surgeon and some of the staff around him discussing golf. I was shocked. My first surgeon (at this point in my story we are on my third surgeon) had said that they do chat about golf while doing operations. I thought he was joking me. But no, here I am, hearing about golf.

Suddenly, I saw a head above me and it said “Oh hello! Time for you to go back to sleep now!” and poof, that was it.

I told my surgeon about this, and he was amazed that even happened. I am too. I’m just grateful that I’m still here after that summer of pure hell and evil. Every night I sleep with my quilt that one of my best childhood friends, Karen, had made for me after that stay. I cherish this thing.