| Stinky Pinky: Or how to become a lesbian in 34 years | |||
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Monday, May 19, 2003 ( 10:04 AM ) Fat Bitch A kidney stone. A fucking Kidney stone. 18 months of cramps, nausea, and horrible gut wrenching pain....fears of terrible diagnosis.... all for naught. I spent most of last night and early this morning in the Emergency room with Whitney, all for a kidney stone. Now don't get me wrong. I understand that they are painful. But her overwhelming fear of doctors has left her basically a cripple on the couch for over a year... She's damned lucky it wasn't something life threatening. If this shit ever happens again, I'll threaten her life. # Wednesday, May 07, 2003 ( 11:11 AM ) Fat Bitch Beebee goes in for her surgery on Friday. Hopefully all will go well. And of course, being the horribly selfish thing that I am...my concern is not all for her. I have been living here in stasis. Maintaining a status quo. All is well as long as my grandmother lives. I just drift along, day to day. Not making decisions, not making plans. Knowing full well that I have to. The minute she goes, my life will be turned topsy turvey. Her last breath will signal the beginning of my new life. And of course, I'm terrified. I have to make too many decisions. I am overwhelmed. Do I move back to Oklahoma? Do I give up a great-paying job, that I actually hate? A job that I know is slowly crippling me physically? Do I let go of some of the control I have in this relationship by going back to Whit's home...under constant scrutiny and judgement of her mom and dad? Do I finally make the break with Whitney? Stay here? Finally have the freedom I crave...and yet be alone? What about this house? Do I actually, finally make good on my promise to buy it? Own it? Be tied to it, knowing all that needs to be done to it? Can I financially make it? I told Mickey that moving back to Oklahoma might actually be a good thing. Give it six months...if things aren't better, if I can't find a decent job...If things go the same as they are going with Whitney...then I can move back here, with little bruising to my conscience. She, then would have a roof over her head, and be near her mom and dad. I could leave feeling that she was safe, secure. But would I have a job to come back to? Could I move to Florida and be near my mom and dad? Too many questions...too many decisions. All hinging on the life and death of my grandmother. Keep breathing woman...Keep breathing !!!!! # |
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