Dying changed my life. And it didn’t. On the regular, I’m doing pretty much the same things I used to do. Writing a shit-ton of words on my computer, playing FromSoft games, cuddling with my cat, Shadow, from time to time, and nattering in the internet. Doing my hour-long Taiji routine every morning as I wake up. I eat the same thing almost every day, and I rarely go anywhere. That’s my life before I went to the hospital, and that’s mostly my life now. I’ve added to my Taiji routine and I’m thinking of adding even more.
Right now, I’m obsessed with Chun-Li. I’ve never played a Street Fighter, but I’ve always loved her because she’s Asian and has dem thicc thighs. I also have muscular thighs, but nowhere near as thiccccc as hers. I seem to remember some fanboi angst at them slimming her thighs a bit or putting her in less revealing clothes. I don’t want to Google it, but I did. i can’t find the specific thing I was looking for, but there was the usual muttering about how she’s fat, not muscular, blah blah blah.
What the fuck ever. She’s my girl and I will not hear a word against her. I have never played any of the games, but that doesn’t matter! I wear my hair in the two buns and I have the thick thighs, plus I’m East Asian. And the boobs. How could I not be her? So I want to be known as Chunky Chun-Li.
I am so into my body right now. I don’t give a fuck if it seems like I’m arrogant. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I spent decades hating my body. I thought I was gross and disgusting, that I wasn’t fit to live. I felt like I had to apologize for taking up space. So, pardon me if I’m showing a bit of self-love.
When I realized I didn’t want to have kids, I felt a huge sense of relief. I cannot tell you how amazing it made me feel. I felt light and airy, and I had never felt better than I did in that moment. Man, did I get shot down repeatedly for responding that I didn’t want kids when asked. I tried to find other women who felt the way I did, but I could not. All the articles I read about it were of women who shamefully said they weren’t going to have them, then provided a zillion reasons why not. I don’t blame them. It’s such a strong societal stricture: thou art destined to procreate if thou art deemed a female human.
I didn’t do any of that. I just said I wasn’t going to have children because I didn’t want them. That was it. No explanation, excuses, or apologies. Why should I apologize? There’s nothing wrong with not wanting/having children, even as a female-presenting person.
It’s the same with my body. For five decades of my life, I’ve been made to feel like I have to apologize for taking up space, for being fat and grotesque. I felt like my disgusting body was a blight on the world and a scarring negative experience for everyone who saw me. I felt I had to minimize my body, make it as least visible as possible, and apologize for, well, existing.
Since my medical trauma, though, that’s out the window. I’m marveling at my body, realizing that it’s done so much for me. It literally got me through dying twice. Non-COVID-related pneumonia, two cardiac arrests, and a stroke. In twenty minutes. And you know what? I came out without a fucking scratch. Wait. That’s not exactly true. I do have scars from all the needles that were shoved in my arms. That’s it, though. You would not be able to tell by looking at me what I went through. Or by talking to me. I will very occasionally forget a word now and again. I have a few problems with my short-term memory, but it’s nothing I can’t deal with. I just take notes and it’s fine.
I am just like I was before my medical emergency, but better. I’m happier, sleep better, and have a better perspective on life. I’ve seen how truly transitory it is and know that it can be gone in the blink of an eye. One moment I was, then I wasn’t. Then, a week later, I was again. There were no angels singing. There was no welcoming god figure looming over me. There was just nothing. Then, I opened my eyes, and there was everything.
For a week, I had absolutely no personal agency. I had every minute monitored and restricted. I was also high as a kite so I’m not entirely sure what was real and what was me being out of my mind. I had a team that took care of me 24/7. 2-4 people attending to my needs every minute of the day. This included me going to the bathroom and them wiping my ass.
I cannot praise my medical team highly enough. Not only were they terrifyingly competent at their job, they were personable and warm while doing it. I’ve mentioned the one nurse who was brisk, efficient, and emotionless, but even he was gentle in his touch and not rough at all. I just got the feeling that he would rather be doing anything than helping me go to the bathroom, which, fair. So would I. I mean, would you?
The rest of my team, though. They were so caring. They were positive and gentle at the same time. They made me feel safe in my most vulnerable state. And they did it no matter what race they were, how old they were, what gender they were, or what their sexual orientation was. They treated me like a human being and respected my dignity.
I cannot tell you what a difference that made when I had just woken up from the worst experience of my life. They did all this without making me feel bad or embarrassed or ashamed. They didn’t wrinkle their lip in disgust at my fat body. Their touches were gentle, yet firm. They did what they needed to do without making the pain any more than it needed to be. When they couldn’t draw blood (because I have the worst veins at all. Normally, I tell them to take it out of the back hand. They couldn’t do that in the hospital, though, because they needed more than just the blood? I’m not sure. I was high), they would apologize profusely. I’d tell them that it’s not their fault, but they’d still be mortified.
My brother said I was too nice to the nurses, but they have a shit job so why not be nice to them? And they made my life so much easier. Like, 1000% easier. They were amazing, and they changed my life in so many ways. Not just all the medical things they did for me, but the way they buffered me from the negative emotions as well.
All my body issues disappeared during that week. Every single one of them. I now love my body and think everyone else should, too. Like with the kids situation, I do not feel I need to apologize for anything related to my body. If you (general you) cannot hang with it, that’s your problem, not mine. I just don’t give a fuck–and that’s a wonderful feeling to have.