I’m grateful to be alive. Ever since dying twice and coming back (twice!), I’ve been supremely aware of my mortality. When I first woke up in the hospital after a week of being unconscious, I spent a lot of time just being grateful to be alive and marveling over the little things. The ice water was the most amazing thing in the world! That actually held true throughout my entire hospital stay. I was fixated on the ice water and would ask every nurse who came into my room for a fresh glass. It didn’t matter how many I had on my table, I wanted another one.
Side note: I found out months later from a nurse on Twitter that the reason is the ice maker that every hospital has. She has colleagues who go in on their days off with a cooler just so they can get some ice.
I ended up with several cups on my tray table by the end of the day, but the nurses were kind enough to indulge me. I had never tasted anything as delicious as that ice water, which elicited an ‘amazing’ from me every time I drank it.
There are many big things that have changed since that day. One that I’ve mentioned before is how I got over my body issues/hatred for my face. Decades of struggling with both and now, no issues. I’m amazed by what my body went through and is no worse for the wear–except a couple scars from the IVs/needle poking and a bit of short-term memory issues. But it’s sturdy and strong, and it allows me to do my beloved Taiji weapons. I am appreciative of all that it can do.
As for my face, I could dissimulate and say it’s because of my funky new glasses and my new hairstyles, but I’m cute as fuck. Yeah, I said it. I don’t regret it. I’m not taking it back. It’s strange to feel this way, but I’ve gone from hating my face (in my twenties) to being neutral about it (in my forties), to thinking I’m all that AND a bag of chips. Hell, I take selfies and post them to Twitter! Me who refused to let other people take my picture before. I never took a selfie before going into the hospital. Or If I did, it was just to test the camera. Now, I’m like, “Hell yeah! I’m cute as fuck. Gonna snap that pic.”
It’s so weird. I haven’t worn makeup in decades. I don’t care about clothes or fashion or any of that. I still don’t wear makeup and won’t because of sensitivity, but before the hospital, I bought a cute outfit for Ian’s wedding. The pants were black pants (my staple), but the shirt was a deep red tunic with a floral pattern. Very much not something I would normally buy. And it looks good on me. Plus, I’ve been fiddling with new hairstyles since the hospital. It started out of necessity because I had a bedsore on the back of my head and was trying to let it breathe by dividing my hair in two chunks rather than just wear it on the top of my head in a bun.
I rocked the Chun-Li twin high buns for several weeks before switching over to two braids, two high ponies, and my current hairstyle, a high pony that is then braided. I’ve done double French braids and two high ponies that are then braided. I have hair that goes to mid-thigh, so I can do lots of things with it. Before the hospital, I wore it up in a high bun all the time. Which is fine and utile, but not very creative. Also, it matted my hair as I had a habit of not undoing it and brushing it out. In fact, while I was in the hospital, a PCA did just that and it took an hour to brush it out. And that was after an hour of hard brushing. But it felt so good and I was so appreciative she had taken the time to do that for me.
It’s Lunar New Year as I write this; the Year of the Tiger. I’m so happy that I’m here for another year, especially that of the lunar kind. I’m feeling myself and wondering if I can get a date–well, I would if I weren’t concerned about Omicron and my issues with getting the booster (I can’t find my vax card), but the point stands. I’m cute as fuck! I want to fuck! I would like to find a fuck buddy or five who want to play. That’s on the backburner for now, however, because of–spoiler warning–pandemic. With my recent health scare, I don’t feel comfortable casually fucking around. We’ll see how I feel about it in a few more months.
That also brings up the question of what I would even say to a new lover. I know I don’t owe anyone any explanation while also acknowledging that it’s my story and I can tell it if I want. That’s something K said to me that I have trouble taking in because I don’t want to burden others. I was saying it was hard to know when to drop that information on newbs because there’s no really streamline way to do it. Let’s face it. I died twice and came back twice is a conversation stopper. There’s no way not to make it the center of attention, even if it’s only for a second. And being more clinical about it–had walking pneumonia, two cardiac arrests, and a stroke, doesn’t make it any easier to digest, either. I suggested to my brother that I say something like, “I had a serious medical issue that landed me in the hospital for two weeks, but I’m fine now.” He laughed and shook his head. I asked if that was underselling it and he said, “Maybe a little.”
I don’t have to tell anyone anything, though. That’s kind of my point about this. I don’t feel like I have to keep it a secret, but I also don’t want it to be the main thing a new person learns about me because I’m so much more than that. I understand that when I met people on my medical team, that was their main interest. That makes sense and I have no problem with that. It bothered me, however, when they said without fail that I was a miracle. Again, I understood why they felt that way and I was glad to be their good news. But I’m still a person who is more than any of that–and it got old fast.
But, to get to the main purpose of this post. I am ridiculously excited about Elden Ring, which is dropping in three weeks (and a few days). I’m breaking all the rules for it. Pre-ordering it, maybe getting the Deluxe Edition (which gets concept art and the OST) to support FromSoft even more, and then I’m going to mainline it for the next several months. That part isn’t unusual, but my attitude about playing it is. Before I went into the hospital, I had all these plans for how I was going to play the game. I was so excited it was more like Dark Souls than Sekiro, and I could not wait to play it like a Souls game.
After my medical trauma, however, all that melted away. I immediately thought about the game after waking up, but instead of all the planning and scheming, I was simply grateful to be alive and to have the opportunity to celebrate another FromSoft world. I didn’t care how I played it or anything–I just wanted to savor every minute.