confession: papi is in surgery getting his ankle bolted back together while i write these confessions. i escaped the hospital while he is in surgery. i’ve been nursing him for a week since he fell while rock climbing. he has been in intense pain, which means he has been a fiery hellish demon to attend to. in order to pause my tongue-lashing so i didn’t slice his bitchy head off, i had to remind myself four times yesterday that he devoted years of sympathetic care-taking for me when i was chronically ill.
confession: the pre-op nurse told papi that he is young while the surgeon and anesthesiologist told him he was old. at 44 years, he is both young and old. i’m glad i am and will always be eight years younger than papi.
confession: any time a person goes into surgery, the patient is asked about advance directives. every time that happens i wonder why papi, wizard, and i haven’t legally addressed these and other issues. admittedly, we won’t do it this week and we will have put it out of our minds again by next week.
confession: years ago when papi began rock climbing he promised me (by my request) that if he seriously injured himself during that activity he would stop climbing FOREVER. i’m sorry he is hurt, but i’m grateful he is never climbing again. i always knew papi would take too many risks and possibly endanger his life. he got lucky he only fractured bones in his ankle when he fell. he won’t tell me how far he fell, and i don’t want to know.
confession: i’m grateful that all my bones are strong, whole, and properly fit together.
confession: i’ve slept seven hours in the past three days. i’m not safe to drive. i wasn’t safe to drive yesterday. still, i drive. i’m papi’s “responsible adult driver” today. geezus…i really need a nap.