PAY UP, PUNK: I spoke to the finance department of the hospital today, and they walked me through the bill for my surgery, and how my insurance would handle it. Let’s just say it was all surprising, from every angle. The staggering cost of how much my big night out cost, and how much my insurance would and wouldn’t cover. Both in a underwhelming way. Both out of yer hands, in the weirdest ways.

But fuck it. It’s only loot. I’ve worked hard to cover shit like this. Always locked in the mindset of “Just in case. Just in case. Just in case.” Midwestern worrywart.

Whatever was hurting inside my guts doesn’t hurt anymore, and instead of flogging the bigger, lumbering, out-of-my-reach realities of a fucked-up healthcare system, for now, I’m just gonna savor feeling good, and better, and healthy, and fixed, and thankful as shit to able to write all of that.

But man, those medical bills sure do sting. Even with insurance. Suckage.

A teeter totter of being thankful, then a little bummed, then thankful, then freaked out, then back to thankful. More thankful than anything else.