All day I have tasted vomit. Smelled it. I'm worried about my ulcer. I'm worried about my health. 

My hip popped out of place. My sciatica is pinched. 

I'm twitchy.

Vomit on my breath. 

Mind racing. 

Muddled thoughts. 

Almost passing out. A lot.

Aching hands. 


Ethel is falling apart. 


On the other hand, I'm happy as a duck. Or something else equally happy. And why are ducks so happy?
Is that even a saying? It's not. Happy as a clam. Happy as a lark.

I have a funny happy as a clam cartoon. It makes me laugh lots.


Work still sucks.

School's out for two weeks.

I want to see the bestie, Carly. And be friends with her kidney on Facebook.


I think she reads this. I worry about her a lot still. Sorry, Carly. I try not to panic, but...I love you. Try not to need anymore surgeries. You can still be an old lady with me. But no more of this nonsense. Tumors be damned. Let them know I'll go all Chuck Norris/Jack Bauer/Navy Seal on their tiny orange asses.