Two years ago today I was in the process of getting directions to go to the gynecologist. I wrote about this last year, but I wanted to do so again to remark that in some ways, I'm even more disturbed by events than I was at the time, or even at this time last year. I'm not sure what I was thinking then. I was more hopeful though.
Not that I'm in such a bad place tonight. I'm cautious and wary because things could always get worse, but for the most part, I'm content. I have good things happening in my life. I'm knitting a baby blanket for my cousin. There is a musical that I love. There are people I adore.
Two years ago, even before going to the gynecologist, my emotions were blitzed. I knew the hellblood could come back at any second. I knew SOMETHING had to be done about it. For me, that was the most horrible part. There was no way I could avoid this. Something had to happen or I would bleed to death. There are a lot of ways you can neglect your health and just die quietly. Blood and gore shooting from your crotch don't allow for that.
So two years since I made the responsible decision to get this process started. Maybe when I'm feeling down, I should remind myself another Hamilton may be around the corner.
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