Now to continue the trend, I think we need a Betty Must Die the lunchbox, the breakfast cereal, and the flamethrower. (Bonus points if you get the reference.)
I can’t laugh. Or smile really. Well, I can but it feels weird and probably looks weirder. But I still have to make fun of my situation because it’s either that or mindless rage, and mindless rage will only get you so far. So here I go.
Top 6 Reasons Why Half A Working Face Isn’t All Bad
6. I should be able to get half off any Botox injections.
5. My jaw hurts if I speak too much so I now have a socially acceptable reason to not talk to people.
4. Everyday can be Talk Like a Pirate Day when you have a good excuse for wearing an eye patch.
3. Since I can now raise one eyebrow independently of the other, I could be the main character in a YA novel.
2. Not even Alan Rickman can sneer as well as I do.
1. Everyday I suffer, I know I’m still alive.
In a book. Don’t get too excited.
Still, it was satisfying to name my character’s Big Bad after my personal Big Bad and have her kill the bitch.
It’s the little things, right?
Says the insurance company employee who called to tell me my PET scan was denied.
Are you fucking kidding me?
“How do you feel, Georgie?” whispered Mrs. Weasley.
George’s fingers groped for the side of his head.
“Saintlike,” he murmured.
“What’s wrong with him?” croaked Fred, looking terrified. “Is his mind affected?”
“Saintlike,” repeated George, opening his eyes and looking up at his brother. “You see… I’m holey. Holey, Fred, geddit?”
Mrs. Weasley sobbed harder than ever. Color flooded Fred’s pale face.
“Pathetic,” he told George. “Pathetic! With the whole wide world of ear-related humor before you, you go for holey?”
-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
When it comes to left ears, you’ve always been (p)earless.
In the face of Betty’s attack, you’ve always stayed (f)earless.
So rather than mourn you, I celebrate and stay (t)earless.
And never, my dear, will I remember you (ch)earless.
Alas, prior to surgery I must remain (b)earless,
So empty is the glass I raise to you, (d)earest.
What do you want? I never claimed to be Shakespeare.
It’s always exciting to
spin the great postal wheel in the sky check the mailbox these days. I get to play a little guessing game. How many insurance statements will I find? How many hospital/doctor bills?
Today’s tally: 2 insurance statements, 3 bills.
That brings this week’s total to 7 statements and 5 bills, and there are two more days left.
This isn’t actually a particularly high weekly total, at least not for the insurance statements. When I was going through my daily interferon infusions last year, every single visit was a statement, every blood draw and lab test was its own statement, and every person who read my chart or who said “hi” to me resulted in yet another statement. I was getting 8×11-sized envelopes from my insurer stuffed full of statements, up to 10 at a time, multiple times a week.
The bills however… well, thankfully, last year my insurance covered more. I fear the bills have yet to reach their peak.