Good news and a long-needed mission made this week better than most. In fact, both combined to get my ass outta the mud and, "sit me back at the table, proper," as Pop used to say.
First, my close friend won her case against her former hospital employer, and she'll finally get the surgery she needs. Never mind that the cause of her injury was in saving a patient who was killing herself; they didn't want to give her healthcare. A hospital who doesn't want to heal people. Says it all about the US. Well, it took 2 years, but she's got a surgery date. That part of the trip to Mordor is over. Bonus Round; her daughter-in-law and youngest grandchild are coming to help her through the surgery. Which is exactly the love she needs. And kinda payback, cuz she went to help them when the little guy was born. It's all good.
Then, having been given a Very Good bottle of vodka for my birthday, I took on a mission. It's been damn near a year since I got stinko (who can afford it?) so it was overdue, and I spilled my guts to said good friend. Just realized I'd been playing martyr/the hero by not telling her my griefs for a year or so. And they're real losses, ones I should be honoring. Ah well, it's a process. Got it outta my system, cried over the phone like the drunk I was, and woke up feeling years younger the next day. Hungover mildly, but lighter, ya know? I guess I'm at the age where alcohol can be used medicinally.
It's about as expensive.
And my good friend Stevil started a blog, which I'm looking forward to reading; he has a unique view of the world and things.
As I often say to my close friend (who shall remain unnamed) , "It's all gonna be allright, -------."
A Return to Love
18 hours ago