Close Encounters of the Mildly Health Compromised Kind.

            So, what does that mean exactly?

            Well, let me tell you. First, I would be the mildly health compromised one. That is, without a doubt, 100% exactly as fun as it sounds. No, really, I mean it. It absolutely sucks. And I don’t think I say that out loud enough because, if I did, it would make the people around me feel bad. What that means exactly is that two of my doctors and my physical therapist all think I have something called EDS. Don’t Google it like I did, Google will tell you that I’m miserable, and or dying, like Dr. Google always tends to do when you Google medical conditions.

            So, basically, I’m supposed to have a blood test next week to check my tryptase levels, I had an EMG last week, two doctor’s appointments this week, and another next week. Probably another one after that, and another one after that.

            Full disclosure, being a sick kid sucked.

            But being a sick adult? I was in no way prepared for this. I’ll take the unexplainable hives before the Xolair injections and debilitating headaches and migraines any day. Fractures, torn ligaments, and fucked up nerves on top of that, and I feel like I’m falling apart. There isn’t a single day that’s gone by in the past almost year since my mom died that I didn’t wish she were here. She always knew how to make my problems seem small, or insignificant. She always knew how to make me feel better.

            There hasn’t been a single day in the past 150-days since Angel went back home to Canada that I haven’t wished she were here either. The six months we spent together were incredible, and I wish we would’ve had more time. I wish we would’ve cooked more and taken more photos. I wish she were here on the days when I hurt more than normal. On the days where I’m feeling sick, and on the days where I’m feeling okay. For the past 15-years she’s the person that I call my best friend, and she is that and more. She became my rock, the thing I held onto when the waves were getting too high and I thought I was going to drown. I don’t have that connection with anyone else right now, and it leaves me feeling kind of empty sometimes. Even though I still have her through text messages, IM’s, and phone calls, somehow that just isn’t the same thing.

            So, what’s next for me?

            On Tuesday I have to meet with another doctor about how, when, and what kinds of surgeries I’m going to have to fix my leg. Since my healing is… mediocre to bullshit on a good day, my podiatrist thinks we’ll have to stagger the surgeries over a 6-month long span to make sure I have ample time to heal, and to make sure we aren’t screwing anything else up in the meantime. But only time and Tuesday will tell.

            I do however have a kind of exciting announcement though, through all of this crap. I’ve officially decided to take the plunge and become a Wattpad writer instead of just being a longtime Wattpad lurker. The first chapter of my first ever Wattpad series Who Wants to Live Forever? Will be going live in just a few short hours.

            That’s exciting!

            -Sky