And so My ANkles are HUGE.

Dude, I’m not even correcting the capitalization errors in my title. I could pretend I’m rebelling against the tyranny of standardization or capitalization practices.

1. A we all know I’m a big fan of standard capitalization usage. Well, I’m a big fan of a lot of the standard practices in English grammar. I fuck them up all the time and my knowledge of the vast world barely scratches the knowledge, but I do care. When I forget how much I care, the internet reminds me. Except verbing, the use of a noun as a verb. I trucking love verbing. Love it.
2. I am so fucking tired I forgot my second point. That might have been my second point, I don’t know.

The father person has been in the hospital since Thursday. Today is… Wednesday,  I think, but yeah since last Thursday. Today, hope started to come back to me so I came home for some rest.

Okay, really, I just lied to you. My sister came in this morning and told me to go home and get rest. She used her mom/ boss lady tone on me. I can only argue with that for so long (approximately 15 seconds unless it is something I am really passionate, then 45 seconds) and came home. She was right, I needed brains sleeps. I am feeling a lot more hope though, so that part is true. Also, my sister and brother-in-law are amazing. They are super human. I will never be able to thank them enough.

This is the character I play in the game Wild Star. I hope to play her tonight.

So, anyway, my body has the most awesome stress coping (I say coping as a question, because this shit doesn’t help cope, and I know it wouldn’t help in a survival situation.) My ankles and feet swell. One time I told the Viking’s best friend they are like puffer fish expanding themselves to scare off predators. They got fucking huge. People say cankles (I hate that word for so many reason.) I think I had thinkles. I don’t understand it. My body does weird shit. STAHP.

So, leaving you with a story of why the Viking truly is my one true love. Thursday night at the hospital the put a catheter in my dad. I became obsessively annoyed at how the liquids will chill in the tube and not drain to the bag. At one point, I bitched to myself that the Ancient Romans had figure out hydrodynamics for vast aqueducts, what the hell is this about.

Friday, the doctor who was filling in for the doctor filling in for my dad’s real doctor, came into my dad’s room dropped a bunch of scary ass numbers on me, told me there was no infection (there was, by the way, fucking science is win), gave me no answers or even hints at answers and swooped out.  I sat in the dark and wept in fear and confusion. She did the worst thing she could do to me. She give me contextually useless information but she was wasn’t willing to answer questions about, stripped me of any course of action, and didn’t give me anything I could hold on to to at least look up. I had to make decisions about what to tell the rest of my family, and I was lost. Our nurse Sam, who is now forever held in a special place in my heart, came in and talked to me honestly, and kindly. He gave me hope and facts.

If someone tells me to go kill a dragon with a butter knife, and I can google what parts of a dragon are vulnerable to a butter knife, I’ll be okay. Not having a course of action or any way of finding a path, I lose my shit.

Anyway, back to the Viking, I was still scared and needed my mate. The Viking came to the hospital later that night. He was wonderful in general. At one point, we where in the hospital room and I was obsessively messing with the damn tubing, and he furrowed his brows at it, He said, “The Roman’s figured that shit out for their aqueducts, what is their problem?”

Yep. He is my one true love.