A Whiskey Mama

For weeks, I’ve been thinking I should write again. The obvious follow-up thought is, how does one jump on the blog and not talk about the spectacle that has been 2020 so far? I started and stopped a few times. But now it’s October and the anniversary of my PE (go here and here to get the whole story of the day I didn’t die).

A near death experience sure has a way of putting a pandemic in perspective. When the proverbial sh*t started hitting the fan early in 2020, I was simply grateful for my slowly improving health. At that point, more downtime didn’t seem like a terrible hardship in my book. Frankly, it still isn’t. Hang on a sec, we’re not here to discuss COVID19 or the election, so swallow whatever you were about to say. Wash it down with a little whiskey if it helps (who am I kidding, of course it helps)!

Before we dive in, I realize I didn’t explain the title of these posts – ‘6 figure vacation’ is one of the twisted things I said last fall during this insane crisis. This one refers to the absurd numbers insurance bills would soon post as the ‘true’ cost of my experience. I was also lamenting the fact that my vacation caused me to miss my favorite season – fall lasted exactly one week. I went in and it was still summer; I came home, and it was almost winter.

Alright, where were we? Sunday night, I went to sleep with a Blood Baby but I guess no blood clot? (what do you mean they don’t check to see if the clot is gone?? Feels crazy, but ok?) The plan was Blood Baby surgery Tuesday and home soon after so we figured we could manage on our own with the help of our beloved Happy Hour Crew.

A Whiskey Mama

Posts

Life is Like a… Goat Rodeo

My 6-Figure Vacation, Part II