Something bad happened this week that has tied into the idea of my dad dying and my mom's death.
I had the worst fever I've ever in my life had (which is impressive - I've been hospitalized twice in my adult life for scary infections). Hallucinations, convulsions, chills, lasting for hours. No apparent reason.
And then my period started.
That's so not normal. I've been Googling stuff ever since, and I'm half-convinced I have cancer. At the very least fibroids. SOMETHING ISN'T RIGHT.
Guess who has two ovaries and hasn't scheduled a doctor's appointment.
There's something comforting in the ignorance. While I know something isn't right, I don't KNOW something is wrong. I'm housing Schrodinger's uterus.
While I was squeezing 10 more minutes of bed time out of the morning, I realized I'm going to be 37 soon. Then 40. At some near future, people will stop thinking I'm in my twenties. I should dye the blue out of my hair because it might be ridiculous at my age. My face won't be oily forever. My skin won't always be soft.
Or maybe it will. Maybe I was off by a decade when I thought I'd be dead by 30. Maybe it's 40 I'll never see, and won't have to worry about old age.
I don't have a will; I need to make a will. I need to get out of debt so I have something to have a will about. At least I have life insurance. Does my father have life insurance? I guess it doesn't matter because he's a veteran. I have life insurance for Jon, too. He's going to outlive me. I hope he gets over the idea that he'll never love anyone else.
So, of course that ruined the last ten minutes of almost-sleep that's better than the entire six hours before.
Does anyone have a life-changing eye cream to help prevent wrinkles? I don't want to look old.
I thought I came to terms with getting older.