The most thrilling moment of my life occurred about two months after my accident(which I’ve lovingly dubbed The Big Bummer). I was progressing at a snail’s pace toward what I can only imagine was going to be my new normal (whatever the hell that was.) I was moved out of the intensive care unit after a nightmarishly long stint that was accompanied by routine nightmarish morphine trips, a nightmarish bitch of a nurse whose evil was augmented by her heart shredding hotness but the two screws tightened sharply into the base of my skull.
If indeed, it’s true that I’m going to hell (simply an educated guess on my part along with innumerable suggestions from certain women in my past life. However, when I roll into church, the ceiling still holds) my years of preparation of entering and reemerging from the string of horrors immediately after my accident should see me through fine. Each step I take now (figurative sarcasm) down my yellow brick road is accompanied by some form of final exam or certification before I can move on. To get out of ICU they had to stabilize my neck. Two plates and about 18 inches of wire later my ticket was stamped and I was declared stable to venture forth onto the Neurologic floor where my quest for answers continued. Once all the spaghetti has hit the fan, all the spaghetti, the end, who or what will I be?