Finally turning a corner.

Yes Readers, I had to drop off the map for a while. There is only so much " I'm freaking out" you can write about.

"I'm freaking out.. I'm freaking out". See... you're bored already.

You can't imagine how un-sarcastic you become in the middle of a meltdown. Which makes the whole meltdown totally not funny. How enjoyable is that? I learned a lot about myself this month, and I'm going to share it with you.

1. I no longer think I can perform surgery on myself. Which bums me out. My biggest delusion of grandeur is that I think I can fix anything. Yes, yes.. there have been innumerable times that life has kicked me in the ass and shown that to not be the case. But if I listened to that crap, it wouldn't be a delusion of grandeur.

Now would it?

Since I sort of feel comfortable with my delusions - I hope its just a temporary thing.

Before this month, I was totally convinced that I could stitch myself up if I needed to. I'm not sure I would - but I really liked thinking I could if I had to. Now I'm all pussified.

Not to mention, I figured it was only a matter of time before I will have to stitch up Mr S.

He loves to see if he can slice something open. I'm placing odds on it being an X-acto accident from him having to break down shipping boxes that devour our house every week. Only a matter of time people. Only a matter of time.

As a matter of a fact, I'm so sure its going to happen I've gotten him to agree that I initially don't have to give him any sympathy so I can give him that "I told you so" look.

Now I'm not even sure I'll be able to stich him up. How lame is that?

Anyway.. I'm getting off track.

2. Neurotic people should not have surgery. Apparently, being neurotic makes you one step away from being a hypochondriac. This was totally unexpected, as I'm not your classic hypochondriac. That's not to say I never had the passing thought that the occasional migraine wasn't a brain tumor - I have. That is mostly Arnold Schwarzeneggers' fault. And its funny thing to say. " It's ah tu'more". See?

Since I really don't like doctors, it keeps a nice control on any real advancement of hypochondria. Once I figure out I'm not dying, I comfortably settle back into my aforementioned delusion of grandeur.

Having a ginoumous blood clot however turned me into the biggest freak you can imagine. And it wasn't like it went away in a couple of days. It is finally settling down after two weeks. Thankfully, the Internet told me this kind of thing is pretty normal. And it gave me a big dose of "shut the fuck up with your blood clot". Things could have been so much worse.

3. I was a big fat liar when I said I would be happy if I just didn't look mauled. Before surgery - that was a completely true statement. But judging from my complete angst every time something "didn't look right". Apparently, I cared a whole lot more than I thought I did.

There was a number 4. But I think I'm over the whole thing now, and maybe I didn't learn as much about myself as I thought. Other than the obvious. I'm way more neurotic than I thought I was.

At least you got an update. Now I can get back to talking about other stuff.