Tray Adjacent

Guys! Someone actually paid me to write something. 

Check it out here!

insert photo of me looking pleased with myself for finally overcoming my fear of rejection (JK not over it)!

oh, here's one. i definitely look pleased here, and not at all tipsy off of auntie's merlot

we'll pretend it's a celebratory glass of wine.

i'm so glad you don't need teeth to drink wine.

short update since i wrote aforementioned essay:

i was in hospital for a week in September for a staph infection. my new favorite doctor who curses like a sailor (heart emoji) had inadvertently caused a staph infection when he performed a mundane skin cancer removal. since my body sees any cut or even splinter as an excuse to throw a freakin' deadly ass germ party, my skin turned red and hot and a little green. i was in the hospital for a VERY LONG week, during which two of my roommates died.

yes. two.

on my last day before i was released, i took a little nap. i was a little bit better which means i was actually able to sleep. i'd taken my teeth out to sleep--dentures are wicked uncomfortable--and when I woke up, they were gone. the cafeteria guy, a man i thought was my FRIEND, had tossed them when you came to get my tray.

what. the fuck.

admittedly, i put them in a cup next to a tray. but they weren't on the breakfast tray. they were merely tray adjacent! 

TRAY ADJACENT!

so now i am toothless again while i wait for the new denture to be made. i'm calling it Mouth Knives: The Sequel. i've been without teeth for two months. the remake of the denture has been a crappy, long-delayed sequel full of complications, budget issues and general frustration. it's the Spiderman 2 of dentures. (what the hell is that sentence?)

i will finally have teeth again come Monday. my lisp will be banished and i'll totally feel comfortable in my own skin. HAHA jk i never feel comfortable in my own skin since my body is actively trying to destroy me 24/7. 

but you guys know what i mean.

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happy holidays, folks.

i'm thankful for all of you and also irish soda bread and Nerds for my blood sugar lows.

i'm also thankful for president obama. 

merry whatever!

xo

kpb

2016: You Suck

Uncle Sam Wants You..your medical history?

Yes. 

This week, the government's hospital, the National Institutes of Health, agreed to accept me as a patient.

Here's a sample of the cover letter that my doctors at Mount Sinai Hospital put together (I've edited out any information that would embarrass me, obviously):

Whew boy! And that was only the start.

It took six months to prepare my case to be presented to be accepted and it took six hours to get accepted. I'm not sure when I go, or what this means.

I am hopeful that a bone marrow transplant is taken off the table and another medicine or therapy is given a chance. I know a cure isn't possible and that it may be very true that I am outliving the latest model every single day. I don't know how scary this can get; I only know how scary it has gotten. 

I'm willing to try anything to alleviate the diabetes or constant infection. I am scared the diabetes is so out of control that I'll lose limbs or my eyes. It all feels real now.

Here's to hoping.

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In other news, Kristie's cancer surgery went great. Oh yeah. Kristie has thyroid cancer! Like I did in 2008! What shitty luck is that.

Today she will find out what stage her cancer is and whether she requires more treatment. Please keep her in your prayers!

Times be tough but luckily we have her beautiful girls to distract us from the stress of cancer in our family again.

We are all lucky to have my parents to propel us forward while having our back. 

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I've been spending a lot of time in NY lately, walking around by myself, reminiscing about the lush years of my twenties. New York is still my favorite, forever home.

I have a part time rental on the Upper West Side. I love being back in New York. It's like I'm living again. I hate cliches but my New York love is one big Billy Joel medley of Yankee hats and Queensboro Bridge jokes and NEW YORK NEW YORK I LOVE YA NEW YORK.

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no one knows how much i dance in joy around my apartment. 

it's so good.

i cry too but...man, i dance a lot. even on the saddest days. even on the Trump days. even on the worst days of the worst days, i put on Hamilton and i fucking dance.

that's what's getting me through.

also, this. 

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i love all of you.