In response to the doctor
Really? He’s “doing good”? Um, he’s on a VENTILATOR! Not breathing. For himself. That’s BAD. Not GOOD.
In response to something I read
Really? Funny. When you wrote that, it sort of left out the part where you fucked me over big time. Oh, and all that stuff you’re tolerating is all the stuff you bitched at me to change. What are you? An ex-husband?
In response to my insane mother
Really? My husband is in the ICU, but you’re going to ask me AGAIN if I’m okay with selling some random books I couldn’t care less about-that I told you to get rid of years ago. Seriously, this ranks up there with sending me my dead grandmother’s bras so they wouldn’t go to waste.
In response to my son
Really? You want to go home? Yeah, me too. In fact, while we’re at it, I really want a bunch of money to appear from thin air because if I’m going to spend 5 grand, I don’t think it should be to hang out in a hospital.
Thank God for Michelle, Melissa, Shawna, Ingrid, everyone who said prayers for me, everyone who gave me good wishes on Twitter and the Not Going To Conference Conference. I don’t think I would have made it.