#but decided not to since eve's still recovering from surgery and it felt like kind of a dick move lol

[pointless-party]

chat should i make a preboot playlist -🐍

[eskalations]

Riza takes a bullet for Roy - something, he's not entirely happy about.

(A Royai Family Oneshot)

FFN Link

A/N: Hey all! I was going to write the next chapter for Smoke and Gunpowder, but I just couldn't get this idea out of my head. The reason for the general title is so that I can turn this into a series of Royai family oneshots if I would like. Given how all over the place my writing is at times, I just don't ever know when my muse is going to strike!

Elizabeth Mustang is my own OC Royai Child. If you would like to read more about her, she is featured in both "the ballad of two killers" and "contentment". I've decided that Elizabeth is a total Pisces and is going to be this sweet, sensitive soul, birthed by two parents who are nearly the complete opposites of her.

I've had the idea for a LONG time that I wanted Royai's daughter to be interested in Alkahestry. I don't know why, but it just seemed right to me.

Let me know what you think! 

~

It had all happened so fast.

One moment, Roy and Riza had been standing next to each other – greeting the superintendent of a newly built school in the Nosh District – when suddenly all hell broke loose. Everything happened so quickly that even the most experienced of soldiers were left staring in shock.

It seemed that the only one who thought to act was Riza herself.

It was supposed to be a simple appearance for the "first" family. Though parliament was now in control of the country's laws, the Fuhrer and his wife were still seen as the faces of the Amestrian government. Many of their days included christenings of new buildings throughout the districts of Central.

This day had been special for Riza. As the First Lady of Amestris, she usually headed projects that had to do with education and its availability in poorer parts of the country. For the past year, she had been working on making education available to the Nosh District of Central, an area that was made up of primarily low income families and had a large Ishvalan population.

The project was one that Parliament had considered a gamble – due to lingering distaste for the Ishvalan race – however, Grumman had been very supportive of the idea from the start. After all the work they had done in Ishval in an attempt to make amends with its people, there was still a continued need to help those who had been misplaced during the extermination campaign.

Riza had spent many sleepless nights putting together plans to get the project off the ground. She had spoken with a countless number of contractors who would be willing to work on the facilities and had personally interviewed several teaching candidates herself. She had even made sure that the superintendent of the new school was of Ishvalan descent as well. Though she had put forth a large effort in Ishval to make up for her actions during the Ishvalan Campaign, she still saw this effort as an extremely personal way to apologize to those who were forced to live in squalor due to the war.

That's why – on the day of the christening of the first primary school established in the district – that Roy insisted upon accompanying his wife to the event. Though it was not a big enough opening to justify both members of the first family's presence, Roy wanted to be there to see the fruition of Riza's hard work. His wife had been grateful for the support and hadn't thought twice about allowing him to attend with her.

This proved to be a big mistake.

The event had started on time. The superintendent gave a short speech about the promotion of education and then made her way over to greet the Fuhrer and First Lady. Roy reached out to shake her hand when he noticed Riza go rigid beside him. He couldn't hear anything over the loud chatter of the crowd watching them, but he could see her lips move as though she were trying to communicate something to one of the bodyguards who stood towards the front of the stage. Before the message could be interpreted though – a very familiar sound filled the air, ringing out sharply above the voices of the spectators.

It was a gunshot. Two, to be exact.

Before Roy could react, his gloves shoved firmly in his pockets out of respect for the people in this area, Riza was shoving him down to the ground and falling on top of him. In the movement, Roy could feel her stiffen in preparation for impact – knowing exactly what was about to happen. Before Roy had even touched the ground, his wife's body jolted twice and then went limp over him.

Roy was in shock.

Everything that happened after that was a blur. It was as though he was watching everything happen from outside of his own body. He could see the blood pouring out of Riza's abdomen – the wound nestled tightly under the left side of her rib cage. There was also a wound on her left arm, the result of a second bullet shot in an attempt to still wound the Fuhrer. Both shots had been meant for him.

The crowd was in a panic and he could feel their usual team of bodyguards crowding around, attempting to put pressure on Riza's wound while also barking orders for an ambulance to be contacted. After the initial shock had worn off, Roy worked to secure her wounds, mumbling near her ear in an attempt to get a response. It was useless though, he received none.

They hadn't let him ride in the ambulance with her to the hospital, despite his own minor injuries. His scratches and bruises could be looked at later – all that mattered was that Riza received the help she deserved.

That was how he ended up in an eggshell white, Central Regional hospital room on a Friday afternoon. After Riza's emergency surgery, she had been transferred to Intensive Care for twenty-four hour observation. For the time being, she was being given sleep medication, so Roy had yet to hear his wife's voice since the events of the morning.

He wanted to be angry. Oh, he wanted to be angry. His men had already arrested the man who had fired the shots – a disgruntled Ishvalan whom had been forced to flee Ishval during the war. According to Havoc, the man had burns up the right side of his body – making it pretty obvious why he attempted to assassinate the Flame Alchemist.

Unfortunately, once again, Riza had reaped the consequences of his own actions.

"Chief?"

Roy turned sluggishly towards the voice, his movements slow as his exhaustion began to set in. Havoc was standing in the doorway of Riza's room – having gained clearance by the two bodyguards stationed at the door of her room. Roy was not taking any more chances, anyone who walked into her room was going to be screened before being allowed in.

The Fuhrer could tell by the look on his friend's face that he must have been quite a sight. He had ditched his jacket awhile back and was stripped down in his white button-down and military pants. There were splatters of blood on both articles of clothing, but Roy couldn't bring himself to leave his wife long enough to go wash it out.

While Roy might have looked bad, Riza surely looked ten time worse. Her usually shiny blonde hair had fallen out of its clip and was hanging limply over her shoulders, the light tips stained with the rusty red color of her own blood. She was breathing on her own – so he assumed that was a good sign – but still seeing all the tubes and wires attached to her caused him a significant amount of anxiety.

"Chief?" Havoc's voice brought him back, the man very familiar with his superior's self-loathing tendencies. "Rebecca wanted me to let you know that she's picking Lizzie up from daycare and that she can stay with us and the boys."

If Roy thought his guilt was bad before, it was nothing compared to now.

He hadn't even thought of Elizabeth.

He had been so focused on Riza and her injuries, that he hadn't made any alternative plans to have his daughter picked up from the military daycare. He had kind of assumed Grumman would take care of it after learning of the incident, which it seemed he had. He must have been the one to ask Rebecca to pick up his great grandchild.

If Riza had been the one sitting by his bedside, she wouldn't have forgotten something like that. Riza was so much better at this parenting thing than he was.

"Thank you." Roy spoke, his voice thick with emotion. "If she gets to be too much, call my aunt."

"It's no problem at all." Havoc answered, honestly. The man made his way across the room to clap his superior on the shoulder. "Don't forget – we'll always have your back. Even if we slipped up this morning, we'll do everything in our power to help aide in Riza's recovery."

He said it so confidently, as though there was no doubt in his mind that she would be able to pull through. The doctors certainly thought she would. After being taken into emergency surgery for a ruptured spleen, the prognosis seemed to be grim. However, with the assistance of an Alkahestry specialist newly employed in the hospital, they had been able to repair the organ nicely.

The wound in her arm was nothing more than a graze, so that was good news. It had required a few stitches, but other than that, the only wound that had caused a significant amount of worry was the one in her gut.

Roy supposed he should be confident in her ability to recover – but it didn't help that every time something happened to her, it made him more and more fearful of losing her.

"Why did she jump in front of that bullet?"

"You know the answer to that." Havoc squeezed his shoulder, his eyes drifting back to the woman in bed. "She may be retired from the military, but she's still watching your back. To her, I don't think much has changed."

"Elizabeth should have changed everything." Roy insisted, bitterness evident in his tone. He hated that he felt so angry with her, but it didn't change the fact that what she had done had been rash. "Riza knows better than anyone how terrible it is to grow up without a mother."

"I don't think the thought even crossed her mind." Havoc said quietly, eyes softening as Riza let out a sigh before shifting on to her side. "She watched your back for so long that I'm sure it's second nature to her to protect you. Besides, Riza doesn't want her daughter growing up without a father, either. Those shots would have proven fatal if she had not knocked you out of the way."

Roy knew what he said was true – however, it did not make him feel any better.

~

The next morning brought more good news. After Riza's tests had come back normal and her vitals had stayed stable throughout the night, the nurses decided it would soon be time to wake her up. They cleaned up the areas around her stitches while explaining to Roy that they would get a better idea of how much pain medication she would need once she woke up.

This made Roy nervous. Riza had made several noises of discomfort throughout the night, but she had still not woken up. While everything may seem fine on paper, it wasn't going to be until she was conscious that they would see the true extent of damage. Roy dreaded the moment that his wife would have to return to him, only to feel the intense pain that the previous day had left behind.

He couldn't deny how eager he was to hear her voice, though.

Rebecca had stopped by – bringing both Riza and Roy a change of clothes. Sometimes Roy forgot how much affection the woman held for his wife, but it was moments like these when Riza was at her weakest, that he could truly see the bond between the two.

The woman had brushed past him without a word before making her way to the bed, dropping their bags in her wake. Rebecca immediately produced a hair tie from her pocket, gently ruffling the soft bangs on Riza's forehead. Within a minute, she had the woman's hair situated into a simple braid that hung over her right shoulder.

"They did a shit job of getting this blood out." Rebecca tsked, using her fingernail to scrape the crusted blood from the ends of her friend's hair. "I know she could care less what she looks like when she's in the hospital, but I'm sure it hasn't made it any easier on you."

Roy grunted in agreement from his place beside his wife's bed.

Rebecca gave him a critical once over before pointing to the room's single bathroom.

"Go get changed, Mustang." The woman commanded before returning her hands to her hips. "The last thing Riza needs to see when she wakes up is you covered in blood. I'll stay with her so you can freshen up."

Though he had not left her side for more than a few minutes all night, Roy knew Rebecca was right. His back ached as he stood from the chair, his state of exhaustion much too great at this point to bother with arguing against her command.

After changing into a new button down and some comfortable black pants, Roy re-entered the room. The entire change had taken him less than two minutes. Rebecca fought the urge to roll her eyes from her spot perched next to Riza on the bed.

They sat in silence for a while, both lost in their own thoughts. The machines that Riza was hooked up to continued to beep and buzz just as they had for the past twenty-four hours. Out in the hall, Roy could hear the two sergeants he had put on guard duty, talking with a nurse as she assisted a patient in the room across from them.

"Elizabeth's been asking for you."

Roy sighed, rubbing his eyes as a wave of tiredness hit him. "I know. Please just tell her we were called away for urgent business. I don't want her to get involved in this."

The Fuhrer could immediately tell from the look on Rebecca's face that something was wrong. He could feel his heart drop into the pit of his stomach as she twisted her mouth, as though trying to figure out exactly how to communicate her next words. Finally, she just came out with it.

"Actually, she already knows."

Now Roy was certain his heart was all the way in his feet. He felt like he was going to throw up. He could feel himself gripping the armrest of his chair, his knuckles going white with the strength of his grip.

"What?" Roy could hear himself ask through gritted teeth, his heartbeat pounding like a drum in his ears. "What do you mean she knows? How did she find out?"

Hearing the accusation in his tone, Rebecca gave him a glare from the other side of the bed. "Central Headquarters went berserk yesterday after Riza was shot. The workers in the daycare had the radio on when I arrived to pick her up yesterday, so she must of overheard everything on the news."

Roy groaned, his head falling into his palms. Great – just great! Now his daughter was being affected by this entire mess!

"She had a rough night last night." Rebecca continued softly, using her fingers to fluff up Riza's bangs once more, trying to keep her hands busy. "She kept on asking if Riza was okay and when she could see her and where her Daddy was. We told her everything was fine, but she didn't believe us. Jean was having to rock her when I left to try and get her to calm down."

The image that painted in Roy's mind made him sick. His poor baby was hurting and he wasn't there to comfort her. It seemed he couldn't do anything right.

"I don't know what to do." Roy admitted quietly, staring at Riza's sleeping face as though it would give him the answer. "I don't want her to see her mother like this."

Rebecca gave him a sympathetic smile, probably the first one she had ever bothered to send his way. "Maybe not like this – but if Riza's recovery is going to be long, then it may be better to let her see her occasionally so she has confirmation that everything's alright."

Roy nodded, knowing that her suggestion was probably the best solution. He wanted to shield his daughter from the cruel realities of their jobs, but much like the time when she had discovered their burns, he knew that keeping the truth from her would probably hurt her more in the end.

"Thank you for watching her." Roy spoke earnestly, dark eyes never leaving his wife's face. He missed the shocked expression on Rebecca's own features at his gratitude. "Hopefully, tomorrow we can let her come see her. I want to see her too."

Rebecca smiled softly, nodding her head in agreement before turning back to her friend.

~

The process of taking Riza off sedatives was a horrible affair.

To Roy, there was nothing worse than seeing his wife in pain. They had done the same thing during their stay after the Promised Day – letting her sleep off the worst of it before gently bringing her back. However, that didn't make it any easier to watch a second time.

Two nurses were in the room when Riza began the waking process. First, it was a sharp hiss that was drawn in between her teeth. Then, it evolved into a quiet groan. Before long, her glassy amber eyes were opening, meeting the concerned gaze of her husband. Though she made eye contact with him – due to the pain meds – he could tell she wasn't truly seeing them.

"Mrs. Mustang?" One of the nurses, Julia – if Roy remembered correctly – asked the woman as she gently patted her shoulder. Riza moaned and closed her eyes once more. "Mrs. Mustang, do you know where you are?"

Riza only moaned once again in response. Roy grabbed the hand laying limply by her side, squeezing it gently.

"Fuhrer Mustang," The other nurse, Patricia said, drawing his attention away from his wife's now scrunched up face. "Try and get her to respond. Her scans showed no head trauma, but we have to make sure she understands what's going on."

Roy nodded, leaning down close to his wife's ear.

"Riza," He spoke softly, his own hand still holding on to her own. "We just need to make sure you're alright."

He could feel her weakly respond to his squeeze, attempting to give him a squeeze back. Her eyes remained closed, but she did moan once more. He could tell she was trying to move her legs underneath the sheets, her mind not fully remembering all that had happened the day before.

She had been able to bend her leg by only a fraction, before it was falling back on to the bed, a hiss of pain escaping her lips. The movement had caused the stitches in her left side to catch and she was most certainly starting to feel the pain that seemed to be radiating there.

"Easy." Julia patted her shoulder once more, trying to calm her racing heart after the sudden onslaught of pain. "You have to be careful. You've been through a lot, so you need to take it slowly."

The nurses had shared with him that once Riza was awake and aware of her situation, she would be transferred over to the Recovery Unit. Upon being released from ICU, she would be allowed more than two guests at a time. That meant she would be allowed to see their daughter.

Knowing this, Roy decided to change tactics.

"Riza," He tried again, watching as the nurse took another syringe and reached over to one of the bags hanging on the IV pole. "You need to wake up so you can see Elizabeth."

This certainly had the mother reacting. Almost instantly, her glassy amber eyes were opening once more and searching for his own black pair. Once she met his gaze, he could see clear confusion in her expression.

"Elizabeth?" Riza asked, her words barely above a whisper. He could hear the slight rasp in her voice from lack of use. "Where is – ?"

Then suddenly as though it had all come rushing back to her, Riza realized where she was and why she was there.

"Roy!" She nearly jolted up in bed, the only thing keeping her in place being the hand of the nurse. Despite being restrained from completing the action, Riza still hissed in pain as the stitches in her side pulled once more. This had Roy reaching out for her other shoulder and gently pushing her back.

"Riza, you have to stay still." He reminded her, his thumb stroking soothing circles over the skin of her collarbone. "You were shot yesterday and went through emergency surgery."

"Yesterday?" Riza looked with bleary eyes to the window where the midday sun was flooding in. "I slept an entire day?"

"Yes ma'am." Patricia answered for him, retrieving a clipboard from the side table. “After your surgery, the doctors wanted you to sleep off the most painful part of your recovery. Unfortunately, we had to wake you in order to determine how much pain medication you actually need."

Riza nodded, familiar with the spiel. She had been in the hospital enough during her time in the military to know basic protocol. Doctors knew better than to administer heavy duty pain medications for long periods of time, especially when it came to soldiers. With how much trauma they had bubbling under the surface, they tended to become easily addicted to the pain killers they were given during treatment.

Riza had never become dependent on painkillers – however, she had had them enough to become somewhat immune to them. That immunity was probably the reason both her arm and her side were throbbing so badly right now.

"On a scale of 1-10 where is your pain at right now?" Patrica asked, her pen flying over the clipboard as she wrote down a few notes ahead of Riza's answer. "Please, don't feel the need to be brave in front of us – you can answer honestly."

Roy squeezed her hand in a show of support.

"A six." She answered honestly, the burning underneath her ribcage becoming more severe as time ticked on. While the slice in her neck had certainly hurt worse than a bullet, the pain she was feeling now was still relatively intense. "It's getting worse though as time goes on."

"That's normal." Julia assured her, squeezing her shoulder once more before turning to the tray behind her. She picked up a syringe with a clear liquid and administered it into one of Riza's IV bags. "This should take the edge off and give us a better idea of how much you'll need from here on out."

The liquid coursed through the IV and into the injured woman's veins. Within moments, the crease in her brow had lessened as the pain in her side dulled to a manageable ache. Roy gave his own sigh of relief as he felt her body relax under his touch.

The nurses continued to monitor her for a few minutes, checking her vitals and making sure that there were no unusual dips or spikes. Once they were satisfied, they took their leave, telling the couple that the surgeon would be arriving soon to sign Riza off for transfer to the Recovery Unit.

After the nurses left, the room was silent save for the beeps coming from the monitors. Roy returned to his seat next to the bed, scooting close enough so that he could continue to hold his wife's hand. Riza shut her eyes, the residual tiredness from the medication still lingering in her system.

"Why?"

Amber eyes found his own, the crease in her brow deepening at his question. "Why what?"

"Why did you jump in front of me, Riza?" Roy's voice shook with emotion, all the pain and suffering he had gone through making its way to the surface. His grip on her hand tightened as he learned forward in his chair, its legs squeaking in protest. "That's not your job anymore."

Riza gave him a sideways look – a wry grin finding its way to her features. "It will always be my job to protect you, Roy. No matter what."

"Riza, it isn't just the two of us anymore – we have to think of Elizabeth," He reasoned, shifting closer, both of his hands now cradling her fingers. He tried his best to communicate his own desperation in this action. "You know better than anyone what it feels like to grow up without a mother. You can't put yourself in these types of situations. You need to let our guards do their duty."

"They didn't notice." Riza's voice was hoarse from lack of use – however, he could still hear the determination behind her words. "They didn't see the gun – but I did. I will not stand by while you get assassinated. Elizabeth shouldn't have to grow up without a father, either."

"Riza, I couldn't do this alone. I couldn't go on without you."

"You would have to." Despite her weak grasp, she wrapped her fingers around his own and gave them a tight squeeze. "You are too important to this country. You would have to go on – for Amestris and for Elizabeth."

This was not a new argument for them – in fact, it came up more often than Roy cared to admit. Though Riza had chosen to act as an active First Lady, she still saw his worth as more than her own. He supposed that, to the world, he was more of an asset to them – but what they didn't know was that, behind the scenes, they had Riza to thank for everything. She was his guiding light – his moral compass – and without her, he wasn't sure what he would do.

She was necessary. She needed to know that.

"We're a team." Roy finally said, his dark eyes boring into her's. In this look, he tried to communicate all the pain and exhaustion he had experienced in the past twenty-four hours. "One does not work without the other."

"If I hadn't jumped in front of you – you would have died."

"Maybe," Roy reasoned, the corners of his lips rising to form a small, ironic grin. "But I've survived worse. It still doesn't give you the right to take bullets meant for me."

"If we're a team, then those bullets were also meant for me."

Roy barked out a laugh, though there was no humor behind it. This woman was impossibly stubborn, but it was one of the things he loved most about her.

~

Riza was transferred to the Recovery Unit soon after her surgeon had come in and checked her stitches. Everything seemed to be healing up nicely and so far, she was free of infection. All her vitals had been stable since surgery, so her team of doctors felt like she was in the clear.

Despite her improved condition though, they still felt it was necessary to keep her in the hospital for several days of observation. The Alkahestry Specialist had mentioned that she would like to continue her treatments for at least four days before allowing Riza to go home. Although her spleen seemed to be working properly, the specialist wanted to monitor its healing through her Xingese alchemy.

Riza's pain fluctuated over the next twenty-four hours after transfer. It took them awhile to create an appropriate cocktail of painkillers, but once they had it all figured out, Riza was able to rest comfortably for six hours at a time. Both her and Roy had been able to get a good night's rest and Riza had even felt well enough to change into a pair of her own pajamas.

Of course, Roy had to assist her and they had to pause several times due to her stitches pulling, but she was able to successfully get the white cotton clothes on before falling back on the bed, exhausted from the effort. She didn't say anything, but Roy knew she had chosen to change out of fear that Elizabeth would be upset seeing her in hospital garb.

Roy had called the Havoc's this morning to let them know that Riza's condition continued to get better. He was disappointed to hear that, once again, Elizabeth had had a rough night and slept very little. According to Jean, she had been asking repeatedly about her mother and father and why they weren't coming to see her. Roy's heart ached at the thought of her tears. He had wanted to call and talk to her, but he feared she would demand to see her mother and everyone knew he couldn't say no to his daughter.

It was decided that Rebecca would bring the girl by later in the afternoon, closer to dinnertime. Havoc, having taken his paperwork home with him for the remainder of the weekend, was going to stay and watch the boys. Roy promised himself that after all this was over – he and Riza would offer up to watch the Havoc boys for a weekend to give Jean and Rebecca a well-deserved reprieve.

Riza was so excited to see her daughter that she had been unable to nap during the day. While it had only been about forty-eight hours since she had last seen her daughter, there was something about a near death experience that made you want to hold your child a little bit closer than before.

Once the afternoon rolled around, Riza was very adamant that her pain medications be delivered promptly so that she would be in the best state when her daughter finally arrived. She even had Roy help sponge her off, to get off the excess blood left behind from the incident – a situation that Roy thoroughly enjoyed.

"I guess I'm returning the favor now." He had teased, using the sponge to wipe the delicate skin of her neck. There was still crusted blood there from her arm wound. "How many times did you have to sponge me when I was in the hospital?"

Riza rolled her eyes at his comment, but gave him a small smile as he dipped the sponge back into the bucket. "Too many times to count."

Once she was re-situated in bed with her pain medications administered, Roy gave the Havoc's a quick call to let them know that they were ready to see Elizabeth. The short wait they had to endure to see their daughter felt like it lasted an eternity. While Roy took to pacing for the time being, Riza attempted to read through one of the books Rebecca had brought with her clothes. It was a futile effort though.

Finally, there was a knock on the door, much too timid to have been one of the doctors who had been coming and visiting them. Riza sat up a little taller in bed while Roy paused in his pacing, standing directly in front of the room's lone window.

A tiny face peaked out from behind the wood of the door, a smiling Rebecca grinning and encouraging the little girl to keep pushing forward. Despite her honorary aunt's gentle prodding, Elizabeth stalled in the doorway, not quite sure how to proceed.

Roy's heart constricted at the sight of his daughter. Her dark hair was braided in a way that matched her mother's, the dark bangs that hung over her eyebrows brushed and straightened to perfection. But even this could not hide the worrisome pallor of her skin and the dark circles under her eyes. Even her ruffled white dress – a new one that her aunt and uncle must have bought her – was wrinkled from being held by Rebecca on their way to the hospital.

Evidently, his poor daughter was having just as hard of a time as they were these past few days.

"Hi Elizabeth," Riza called gently from the bed, her face lighting up with a smile at the sight of her child. Although her mother looked happy to see her, Elizabeth was still uncertain. She looked up at her aunt, her wide eyes asking for direction.

"Go on," Rebecca gently patted the girl's back, urging her forward. "Go see your Mommy and Daddy. They've been waiting for you."

Seeing her father standing in his normal clothes was a familiar sight, more familiar than seeing her mother laying in a hospital bed anyways. With one more glance back at her aunt, her little sandaled feet began their trek against the tiled floor. In response to her actions, Roy squatted down and opened his arms to receive her.

"Hi Lizzy," He murmured affectionately. At his gentle greeting, the girl rushed into his arms. Roy caught her easily and hugged her tightly to his chest. A pair of little arms wound around his neck as he lifted her up off the ground, holding her as close as possible. God, had he missed her.

"Daddy!"

Her sweet voice almost brought tears to Roy's eyes. There was so much relief in that one word. It spoke of the days of longing where all she had desired was to see them. They had traveled before without her, but never under such severe circumstances. Roy was going to have to have a word with the daycare workers at Headquarters about letting the children listen to the radio.

Suddenly, Elizabeth was pulling away from his neck, her gaze level with his own. Though she hadn't been crying when she walked in, she certainly was now.

"Is Mommy hurt?" The girl asked, her eyes already puffy. Roy adjusted his grip, using his fingers to wipe a few stray tears from her cheeks. "They said Mommy was hurt."

"Shhh," He soothed the child as her tears continued to fall, he put his hand on the back of her head and drew her into his embrace. "Everything's okay, Lizzie. Mommy's fine. She's been so excited to see you."

His eyes met with Riza's as she gestured for him to come closer. The Fuhrer bounced his daughter gently as he made his way over to the side of the bed where Riza was reaching out for the distraught girl. Roy carefully placed Elizabeth into her mother's arms, trying his best to avoid jostling the upper portion of his wife's left arm. If the transfer hurt, she gave no indication as she cradled the girl against her un-injured side.

"Mommy?" Elizabeth asked, looking up at the woman next to her. Her mother wrapped her arm snugly around the small of her back and pulled her in even closer.

"I've missed you so much." Riza spoke softly, using her hand to wipe the tears from her daughter's face. Elizabeth eyed the IV's that were stuck in her mother's hand wearily. "I was waiting for you to come visit me."

Elizabeth didn't say anything in response, instead looking behind her at the monitors next to her mother's bed. In her four years of life, she had never stepped foot in a hospital. All of the equipment surrounding them was completely foreign to her. Roy pulled his chair up to the bed to get closer to his wife and daughter, watching as Rebecca chose to exit the room and speak with the guards outside.

Finally, Elizabeth's eyes drifted back to her mother's. She still looked uncertain, but at least she wasn't crying.

At that moment, Dr. Feng walked through the door with a clipboard in hand. The Xingese native known as an Alkahestry Specialist smiled from beneath her mask, her long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. She couldn't have been more than twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old with such a young set of features.

"Hello Mrs. Mustang!" The woman greeted cheerfully, noticing the small girl sitting next to her. "Is this the daughter you've been talking about?"

Riza smiled down at Elizabeth as the girl's face lit up, now knowing her mother hand been speaking of her. "Yes – this is Elizabeth."

"Hi Elizabeth!" Dr. Feng walked over to the left side of the bed, opposite where the young child was seated. "Have you ever gotten to see Alkahestry at work?"

Elizabeth's face scrunched up in confusion at the woman's use of the word, a crinkle appearing on the bridge of her nose. She directed her curious gaze to her father, who was smiling down at her.

"Alkahestry?" Elizabeth asked, tripping over the 'es', making it sound as though she had said 'alkahistory'. "Like alchemy?"

"Kind of," Roy placed his hand on her tiny shoulder, giving it a squeeze. At her young age, she already knew quite a bit about alchemy, having the "Flame Alchemist" as a father and the younger Elric children as playmates. It made him proud. "It's not like my alchemy. This kind of alchemy is used to heal."

"Like a doctor?" The girl asked for clarification, looking back at the woman in scrubs. She gave a bright smile from below her mask, nodding her head encouragingly.

"Yes! That's why they call me Dr. Feng!" She pointed at her name tag, where the words were proudly displayed along with her specialty. "I helped make your Mommy feel better and I've been checking in on her ever since. Do you want to watch me work?"

Roy wasn't so sure that was a good idea, especially after Elizabeth's emotional reaction to seeing their scars only a few months prior. However, the child nodded excitedly, shifting to sit forward on her knees. Riza brushed back her hair affectionately, the attentive look on her face reminding the mother of the young girl's father.

Dr. Feng put on a pair of gloves before unbuttoning Riza's nightshirt. Once the stitched-up wound was exposed, both mother and father watched their daughter's face closely for some sort of reaction. The crease between her brows deepened in worry, but the sight didn't send her into another round of tears, her curiosity far greater than her fear.

The doctor removed the protective dressing over the wound, chatting with Riza about the pain. She was happy to hear that it had gotten a bit more bearable and that she had been able to sponge off earlier in the day. According to the specialist, her recovery was right on track and she shouldn't have to be in the hospital for any longer than possibly three or four more days. This was good news indeed.

Elizabeth watched as the woman took a funny brown liquid and drew a transmutation circle over the area under her mother's left breast. Once the circle was set, Dr. Feng pressed her hands to the woman's abdomen and the liquid began to glow. Elizabeth's attention was so focused on the woman's ministrations that she didn't notice the wince on her mother's face once the circle was activated.

The young girl watched in fascination as the glow dimmed and her mother's body relaxed – the healing arts promoting the growth of new tissue around the tender organ.

"Wow," Elizabeth said in wonder, her black eyes wide as she reached out with a finger to gently touch the residue left on her mother's stomach. Riza carefully guided her daughter's hand to an area that wasn't so tender and allowed her to feel the warmth of her flesh. "Cool!"

Dr. Feng laughed at the child's enthusiasm, disposing her gloves in the waste bin at the side of the bed. "It is pretty cool, isn't it? It makes saving lives kind of fun."

Those words had Elizabeth's eyes widening once more. "You save lives?"

Riza smiled down at her daughter, pushing her dark bangs back from her forehead. "She saved my life the other day when I first came here. Without her, I probably wouldn't have survived."

Elizabeth's face turned sad for a moment, her lower lip jutting forward in a pout. Roy feared she was going to start crying again, until she shook her head to get rid of the frown and instead turned to smile up at the doctor.

"You're like a hero!" The young girl proclaimed excitedly, leaning forward on her knees and bringing her fists to her chest. "I want to be hero!"

This shocked Roy. While his daughter certainly knew a lot more about alchemy than the average child her age, she had never shown much of an interest in it. She had been impressed by his show of skills from time to time, but beyond that, she wasn't terribly inclined towards things like fire. It seemed like her interests went in another direction – healing.

At the child's words, Dr. Feng was laughing once more, placing a warm hand on the girl's head. "You can be, Miss Elizabeth. All you have to do is study hard…"

"Study hard." Elizabeth nodded vigorously – a look of determination on her features.

"…and always listen to your mom and dad…"

"I always do! I'm a good listener!"

"….and have a healer's heart!"

With that, Dr. Feng tapped Elizabeth's chest, right over where her heart would be. Almost in awe, Elizabeth placed her hands over the area, her eyes wide with wonder.

Long after the doctor had taken her leave, Elizabeth chattered on and on about the scene she had witnessed. Even after Riza's pain medications started to wear off, the woman didn't have the heart to tell her child that it was probably time to go. They had expected Elizabeth to be emotional and upset at the sight of her mother in a hospital bed – and she had been – but it seemed that her experience with Alkahestry had replaced her fear and sadness with a new-found excitement.

Roy watched from his chair beside the bed as the two most important ladies in his life chatted about doctors and hospitals and Alkahestry and about a certain ponytailed girl who had once saved Riza's life. The pure joy on Elizabeth's face and the sweet affection on Riza's had the man smiling as he leaned back in his seat.

Who would have ever thought his daughter would be fascinated by Alkahestry?

[sage-nebula]

(DO NOT reblog this, please; I just need to vent for a second.)

So, this morning, I received a call from my mom (stepmom, the not abusive one) that---

Well, okay, let me back up.

This morning my mom called me, and at first I let it go to voicemail, because I figured that it was going to be nothing more than a reminder that my aunt is having a New Year’s Eve party that I’m not going to. (She has one every year, but she also doesn’t have easy interent access, and it’s a family event, so . . . I don’t go.) I was sleeping at the time, and I didn’t want to have what I felt was going to be a pointless conversation, so I let it go to voicemail.

However, instead of leaving me a message, my mom called me immediately after my phone would have taken her to voicemail. At that point, feeling rather irritated, my thought process was, Somebody better be dying, before I answered the phone, feeling rather irritated.

Well . . . famous lost thoughts, kind of.

It turns out that my dad is in the hospital. It’s nothing too serious---it’s just appendicitis. I mean, that could be serious, depending, but he was able to have the surgery, and appendicitis surgeries have an 84% success rate. In any case, according to my mom, Sir (what I call my dad, usually) didn’t want me or my siblings to come up to the hospital, because he felt that it would be embarrassing to have us all there and would therefore stress him out. And you know, I get that. I don’t like having people fuss over me, either. So I told my mom to let me know how things went, especially if there were any complications, and I went back to sleep.

I woke up several hours later, and there hadn’t been any news, which I figured was fine. “No news is good news,” as the saying goes. However, shortly after I woke up, my older sister texted me, and was pissed because our aunt (different aunt, one we’re blood related to) had apparently told her about Sir being in the hospital, and no one else had, and so she was livid.

What you have to understand is that my sister and our biological mother have . . . a lot in common, in many different ways (which actually might have something to do with why my sister still has a relationship with our biological mother, whereas I haven’t spoken to the cunt in about twelve years---and yes, I know that’s a very harsh word, and I ordinarily wouldn’t use it, so that should tell you how horrible my biological mother is, that she would deserve that). One of the things they have in common is that they both tend to have victimization / martyr complexes, in that any single slight against them (even just perceived slights) get blown up into drama that they do not let go of, and cannot see the other side of. Whether it was my biological mother continuing to rant about the divorce even eight years after it happened, or whether it was her throwing a fit in a Subway because they were out of the Italian bread she wanted for her sandwich (and then, when I---a mere twelve-year-old---told her that she was embarrassing me, I got yelled at, because apparently I was embarrassing her by telling her that she was embarrassing me), any perceived slight or insult gets blown way out of proportion, and everyone in the surrounding area is to blame for it.

And that’s basically what happened here.

My sister texted me demanding to know why she wasn’t told. I explained to her, calmly, that Sir didn’t want her to be told because he knew that she is stubborn like him (I thought that maybe comparing her to him would ease her feelings, but I was wrong), and that she would bring her entire family up to the hospital even if he told her not to, and as such, he did not want her to be told until after the surgery was over so that she had good news and everyone would be happy. This message that I sent her was calm, it assured her that things were fine, it let her know that it was Sir’s decision to not tell her, it should have ended the converation there.

But with the way my sister is, it didn’t.

She texted me back saying that, what the fuck, what if it wasn’t good news, what if that was her only chance to see him, she had to learn from family members 1500 miles away, “That’s completely Fucked up!!!!!”

I heaved a sigh, and texted back that if it was serious, all of us siblings would have been told to come up. But instead, we were told to stay home (which we did) because it was not serious. I reitereated that Sir was going to be fine, and that there was no need to worry.

Now, at this point, a rational adult might say that, okay, she still wishes she had been told, but she’s glad that he’s going to be okay. At worst, she might say that she plans to take this up with him when he’s better, since it was his decision. That’s what a mature, rational adult would say, right?

Well, that’s not what this thirty-three year old adult woman decided to say.

Instead, she texted me back with, “No, YOU were all told to stay home, I wasn’t told SHIT! I had to find out from out of state family members...at least I know where I stand.” 

mfw:

Setting aside for a moment how self-centered it is to still be more worried about your own feelings than your ailing father, the whole “at least I know where I stand” is so petty and passive-aggressive that it makes any sympathy I might have had for her evaporate. It’s the same exact guilt tripping nonsense that our biological mother would pull. Which, yeah, you could say, “Well, she just learned the abusive behavior, it’s a result of her own abuse . . .” but no, my sister is in her thirties, she should know better. If I know better, then she could learn better, and in any case, I’m no longer in a place in my life where I want to deal with this bullshit.

So, as you could imagine, at this point my patience had pretty much run its course. So I replied with, “Look, you can talk to Dad about this when he’s recovered. It was his decision (that he might have made because, idk, you wouldn’t even listen to him when he said he didn’t want a birthday party this past Xmas, much less if he told you to stay home while he’s in the hospital). But please save the tantruming for when he’s better. Appendicitis surgeries have an 84% success rate, but he still doesn’t need the stress.”

And that bit about the birthday party is true, by the way. At the immediate family family event this past Christmas, she kept insisting how the two of us had to plan a huge birthday party for him. When I told her that I didn’t have the money for that, she replied, “I'm not worried about the money,” at which point I replied, rather indignantly, “I am!” And honestly, she should be, because she’s even more broke than I am given that she has a family to support, but whatever. The point is, she said she didn’t care, and when Sir overheard this conversation and told her, repeatedly, that he didn’t want a birthday party and that it would upset him if she threw him one, she kept telling him he was going to have one because it was a milestone birthday, yadda yadda. So you know, that probably played a part in him not wanting her to be told, because he knew she wouldn’t fucking listen if she was told to stay away. (Also evidenced by her, “WHAT IF IT WAS MY LAST CHANCE TO SEE HIM??” like . . . clearly you would have gone up to the hospital, which is what he didn’t want, which is why he didn’t tell you, how is this so hard to understand?)

Anyway, at that point she realized that she was running out of things to counter me with / yell at me for, so she decided to try to criticize my grammar by saying, “It’s Tantrums, I don’t believe Tantruming is a word..and it’s my father and his health and I had a right to be informed . . .” And then went on about how she obviously listened about his birthday party, because she didn’t throw him one. Never mind that the birthday in question is the one two years from now, versus the one he just had, and she knows this, but whatever, I let that go in favor of addressing her grammar.

Or rather, addressing her correction of my grammar.

See, here’s the thing: Not only does she routinely have issues in her grammar that I could correct but don’t because I’m not that kind of asshole (I mean, just look at that text: She capitalized both “tantruming” and “tantrums” when she shouldn’t have, she only had two dots instead of three for ellipses, and she didn’t space her ellipses, which---I know tumblr formatting always smashes ellipses together, but they’re supposed to be spaced out, with one space surrounding each dot), but I knew that I was right, or at least right enough. While “tantruming” is likely not recognized as a word by modern dictionaries, it still is in a modern slang lexicon, and words that are used often enough in a slang context are often adopted into formal dictionaries (see: ain’t). So in my reply text, I let her know that in the modern lexicon, tantruming is an accepted verb variant of tantrum. I then, because I was feeling rather pissed off, sarcastically praised her for trying to correct an English major with linguistics certification on what is or isn’t a word. (I don’t actually have linguistics certification, but I mean, she only has a high school equivalency degree because I did half her coursework for her while I was still in high school myself, so the point stands. She really should not be trying to pick this battle with me.)

She didn’t give up. Instead, she replied with, “Funny you mention being an English major when you started a sentence with But, that’s a grade school no no.” 

I don’t even know what sentence she was referring to, honestly, since my last message didn’t include that---but I did get to correct her again with, “Incorrect according to most modern style and grammar guides. Here, educate yourself:” and a link to a modern style and grammar guide which explained that beginning a sentence with a conjunction is actually usually correct grammar.

In any case, while I was sending that snappy text, she texted me back with a message saying that she was done with the conversation and, “At least our aunt cared enough to let me know.” 

Which, again, more guilt-tripping nonsense, designed to do nothing more than make me feel bad and grovel for forgiveness while spouting apologies. But I’m not in the business of doing that when I haven’t done anything wrong (okay, snapping at her about grammar isn’t right, but she started it), so instead I replied with, “You’re behaving like a self-centered child, so that is fine by me.”

And for someone who claimed that she was done with the conversation, well, that just pulled her right back into it, for she said, “I’m self centered for being concerned for my father, do you have a clue how Fucked up that sounds...You lower yourself to call names yet I’m the child? I love my father and had a right to know, that’s the bottom line.”

And ohh, fam, at that point I let her have it. My response was a veritable essay, so here we go:

“First of all, the one who initially stooped to ad hominem was you when you tried (and failed) to criticize my grammar in lieu of having an actual response. So yes, I’ve criticized your behavior, but you were the first to stoop to juvenile personal attacks.

“Second, yes, you ARE being self-centered. You care more about YOUR FEELINGS than YOUR AILING FATHER’S WISHES. You think, despite him needing surgery, that the biggest tragedy here is that you weren’t told. News flash: You only have a right to know what HE WANTS you to know when it pertains to HIS PERSONAL AFFAIRS. Being his daughter does NOT give you a right to override his boundaries and personal consent. Instead of thinking about how victimized you feel, why don’t you instead think about how you want him to get better, and want to have a calm, adult discussion with him about this when he is? That would be a reasonable response.

“And lastly, you have been taking this out on and yelling at ME when it was NOT my decision. I tried to explain things calmly to you at first, using facts, but you’re so wrapped up in your own drama that you refused to hear it. So yes, you ARE being self-centered and immature, and I’m done dealing with it. I put up with enough of this behavior in my childhood. If you feel like behaving like an adult, message me then. Otherwise, please refrain.”

At that point, my mother (again, the non-abusive one) called, and let me know that the surgery was fine and that, although my dad might have to stay in the hospital for another day or so, he should be fine. So, good news! She then asked how things were going, and I let her know that I had been fighting with my sister for the past hour, and offered to screenshot and send her the receipts if she wanted them. She said she did not want them. Nonetheless, my sister just replied with “Peace” (as I saw after I got off the phone with my mom), so whatever. She’s pissed, but whatever, we’ve had worse fights in childhood. And if not, who cares, honestly. I rarely talk to my sister, and if she’s going to behave like this, I don’t even want to.

Anyway, that was just a spot of venting. Again, please do not reblog this, I’ll just delete it if you do. I just wanted to get it off my chest, because goddamn, what a way to end the fucking year, am I right?

Good riddance, 2017. May 2018 be better than you.

[cosmosogler]

hi guys. today when i did the pokemon lottery i got the last three prizes in a row. kind of incredible considering they are all five-star lottery stalls and so usually pay out in the middle range with some high and low spots. i also got nothing in the haunted house treasure hunt thing. i’m not annoyed about it, just kind of baffled.

anyway i got up at a decent hour today! i had weird dreams about interacting with family again. i was at a “hospital” although really it was more of an amphitheater, and it took on that function a few minutes later anyway. i was with my family celebrating something but i was real sore from my gallbladder surgery so i didn’t really want to move around much. i didn’t take any painkillers last night so maybe the soreness just translated over.

at the end i guess i was tasked with tracking down a rogue a.i. in like a giant mall? i noticed it wasn’t really doing anything wrong besides acting shifty though. it was a complicated feeling. like, i knew things could easily go south real fast (especially with me physically out of commission), but i also wanted to trust the machine to do the right thing, but i knew that might not be very likely considering the way other people treated it. it was like a weird hope for the best and acceptance of the worst at the same time. i guess that’s pretty relevant to my life right now.

i got a haircut. just a trim. it does feel shorter. but i look like a dweeb with the stuff she put in my hair to make it lay straighter. dad and i brought home takeout chinese food for lunch. that made me... pretty sick, but not painfully i guess.

so after that i basically just waited around for mom to get home. mike squeezed eve in for an appointment today in the afternoon so mom was coming home early to take eve over to his office. since dad wouldn’t be able to drive her all the way out there and back and still have time to finish everything before work. i did some chores in the backyard with dad and my brother - basically just helped my brother with the patio furniture and picked up some stray dog toys laying around the yard. i didn’t do any heavy lifting or anything but i was still pretty sore and tired by the time mom got home. 

i was happy i’d spent a little time giving eve a good rub-down again before we’d gone outside. she burned her feet a little bit on the driveway. i was glad to see she remembered to run straight to the shade of my brother’s car while we waited for mom to unlock her car doors. it’s been a while since she’s needed to do that. i remember when we had to emergency panic-teach her that one time we were hiking in sedona. taylor and i had to take off our socks and i think we used uma’s hair ties? to tie the socks to eve’s feet to give her a little cover. i’d sprint to the next patch of shade and call her over and she caught on that the shade didn’t burn real fast. then when we got to the creek eve jumped in before we could get the socks off. so taylor and i had muddy-red socks after that.

anyway we drove to mike’s office and i tried to bribe eve with the cookies they keep in the waiting room. she wasn’t having any of it though. we got her into one of the patient rooms and i sat with her while mike and his tech did a quick physical examination. 

all things considered we got the best possible news. mike said she was in good health other than cancer leg, and he could fit her in for an amputation in a week. so that would give me a week to take care of her while she recovered before i move to florida. he reminded us that she could, of course, die for unrelated reasons (like a heart attack) at any time, but this would be the natural next step to take either way.

and eve finally ate the cookie when i offered it again. maybe because they didn’t try to take her temperature or update her vaccines or clip her nails. and she wasn’t trembling which is a big accomplishment for her!

when we were trying to get eve out of the car and into the office she got stuck between the backseat and the chair of the front seat. her leg was at a weird angle and she couldn’t move it or bend it enough to get it off the seat. so i shoved the front seat forward as far as i could to get her un-wedged. 

when we got back in the car the first thing eve did was get behind the front seat on the floor and curl right up there. so i couldn’t move the seat back. so i spent the whole car ride home with my knees smashed against the glove box. mom and i discussed the pros and cons of not having an exit to our neighborhood southbound on the freeway. you have to pass our house, drive two miles down to the first exit, turn around and get back on the freeway, drive past our house again, then get on the exit and get on the frontage road and drive past our house again, and then get on the neighborhood road and get to the house. well, there’s a few ways to get through the neighborhood, but they’re all kinda slow.

it adds more than five minutes to any trip where we’re coming in from the north considering the lights on the first exit are the two worst in the city.

one is never green, and then as soon as you can cross the bridge to get back on the freeway the green arrow turns red by the time you reach the light. so you get to DOUBLE WAIT.

anyway after that i gave all the dogs a cookie. and then i wasted the rest of my evening on youtube and junk. honestly i was wiped. knowing there’s something we can do for eve... it felt like i’d been holding a big ball of energy for the last full day and when mike gave a definite recommendation it just kind of escaped and i was dead tired.

i made myself dinner but it wasn’t very good and it also made me feel pretty sick and sore. i’m still reallllllllly stiff all down my chest and side. trying to wear a bra while out in public made everything 861 times worse.

ah dang, i forgot to ask mom or dad to take me to the pharmacy. i think i’ve only got one pill left on my current prescription. the pharmacy’s got a refill ready but i still can’t drive. technically i’m not supposed to drive or lift anything “heavy” (more than 15-ish pounds) until i do the follow-up with the surgeon, but i think at a minimum i should wait ten days. usually follow-ups happen within ten days but my surgeon just went on vacation so i don’t see her for another week and a half.

prescription as in my normal pills. not the painkillers. those don’t have a refill. i’m hoping sleeping will be a little easier tonight now that i’ve gotten through a full night without taking any.

i wouldn’t write about it so much here but interacting with mother has kind of shot my confidence so i am confirming to myself that i am using my prescribed medicine responsibly and as directed. 

interacting with dad... he said a lot of really hurtful things that play real easy into insecurities i have about interacting with other people. i feel like nothing he’s said after that, even after three weeks, has been as important or worth remembering.

i dunno. hearing “you don’t care about anyone but yourself” periodically over the years kinda makes you feel bad i guess? if you care about things like that. or if you’re insecure and worry about coming across as selfish and you do care about other people but you’re not very physically affectionate so they think you’re lying. hearing that kind of thing yelled in your face kind of bums you out. my other favorite is “you’re so egotistical, you think you’re too good to interact with anyone.” that’s stuck with me for a long time. i guess it’s been like 9 years now since i got that one dumped on me.

bullying doesn’t just come from classmates and your parents. other people’s parents and school administration like to get in on the action too sometimes. 

boy do i just love being told what i think. “you’re not really sorry” is another Greatest Hit. 

dad said more than one hurtful thing. i only gave one example here. thinking about what he said, thinking about what my parents must think about me to say things like that, makes me feel honestly kinda sick. it puts all the yelling politics sessions and car lectures in a new light. i used to think they would cast me as the “other side” in an argument because they genuinely thought i always disagreed with them forever. i told myself that was silly, they were probably just getting worked up as they thought more about whatever they were yelling at me about.

but now? i think, at least dad, does genuinely think i’m one of those “filthy idiot liberals.” 

and i mean... i guess he’s right, sort of. not always. but i never told him anything about what i thought. i worry about what made him assume it was ok to decide i was his antagonist in this “argument” (lecture, yelling session) and what made him assume what my opinion on any topic was when i have never, ever told him what those actual opinions are. 

like, i don’t even barely tell my FRIENDS what my political opinions are unless i am completely comfortable. what in god’s name let him know what those opinions were? does my body language give THAT much insight into my thought process? do i just look like a smug asshole all the time or something?

asher said i just look anxious and tired all the time. i don’t know how anxious and tired translates to punchably condescending, but i guess, you can see a lot of whatever you want to see if you believe in it hard enough.

i’m up late... it’s weird how these comments turn into time bombs. like i think about it even when i don’t think i’m thinking about it and then suddenly i have emotions about it? it makes it REALLY hard to figure out what’s bothering me so much i can’t work all the time. is it really just because i feel too sick to eat and that makes me tired? or is there another reason stacking on it that’s making it just too hard to work through? something half-forgotten that i don’t know how to deal with but it’s decided to cause problems anyway? why do subconscious fears make me look (and feel) really lazy all the time? what even is lethargy. 

it’s disheartening to run into boundaries... the physical boundaries of your body, i mean. like i used to think i had an endless well of determination and grit that could get me through any rough situation. even though i was literally crying and angry all the time as a kid? i guess i just figured if i needed the mental/emotional energy, the motivation, i would just look into myself and find it there somewhere. 

but going to college all these years, feeling suicidal some of the time, experiencing my joints locking up just from fear... that motivation isn’t actually there. it’s not hiding under any of the stones i’ve overturned at least. i can’t just keep going and going forever. i can’t just say “i won’t give up!” and then actually not give up. i don’t got the gila monster death grip.

unless... i do, and i’m just too lazy to find it? why can’t i just try harder?? is this the kind of limit that’s all in my head and my *Attitude* will make everything better? because so far when i do that, when i keep going even though my body and brain say stop, my body breaks. 

mom always said i had no pain tolerance. then she found out my pain tolerance is incredible and it was just that no one believed me when i said i had severe chest pains. 

then after my heart surgery was over and done with, and i still had trouble exercising, my mom attributed it to “no pain tolerance” because i was “scared that any pain is bad now that something was wrong once.” 

so i guess no matter what i have no pain tolerance? i dunno.

um... i guess... the reason i put so much stock in what other people say about me, what they say about what i’m thinking or what i’m like, is because i can’t tell what i look like. i don’t have an outside perspective on myself. i depend on feedback from other people to adjust my behavior or whatever. so when i’m told or i realize that i can’t trust the feedback i’m getting from mom, or dad, or the principal, or craig or whoever, i start feeling like there’s no way i’m ever gonna figure out who i am to other people. and if i don’t know who i am to other people, how am i gonna figure out anything about myself? i need other people to tell me what i am doing so i have a name for it. my perspective is pretty bunk and ain’t very reliable. 

that’s probably unhealthy too. but my reality seems to be so dramatically different from other people’s realities that i need to figure out where the overlap is. how i can change myself to act more like the things i want to act like. when i ask “am i kind?” i usually get “not kind ENOUGH.” “am i trying?” “not trying hard ENOUGH.”

i mean how am i supposed to know what i’m REALLY doing? i don’t want to have delusions about myself. i can’t have only my opinion. my opinion sucks and i hate hearing it all the time. without anyone else’s input my head turns into a hellish echo chamber and i can’t figure out how reality works any more.

i wasn’t thinking about that today, not a lot, not more than normal at least. i’m mostly just relieved that there’s something i can do for eve. i’ve never had something i can do to actively make my dog’s life better at the end of their life. bernie had alzheimer’s, or the dog equivalent. she just forgot everything. and when she stopped recognizing me and my sister, and tried to bite us, mom euthanized her basically immediately. we put a lot of time and effort into keeping randi healthy when she had cancer but even after the money we spent and stuff she died on the floor. that was mom’s biggest worry about eve. that the money she spent wouldn’t matter. jake got bloat really suddenly and like two hours later he was dead. there was just... nothing i could do in those situations. but eve might get to live for a few more months. maybe i could see her at christmas. it’s a possibility. i’m afraid to get my hopes up, but knowing the option is there...

so, i guess, i’m sad about my life. but i’m happy about eve’s. and... i’m glad i will be able to help her for that first week. even though it makes me exhausted i’m happy i don’t HAVE to think about death for another short while yet.

[junker-town]

What’s the 1 thing you’d change about every NFL team’s 2017 season?

In the spirit of the holiday season, let’s imagine what each team would pick if Santa existed (WINK) and granted them all a do-over.

When the holiday season rolls around, it’s fun to pretend you live in the fairy-tale comfort of a Hallmark Christmas movie. (This isn’t just us, right?) It’s Christmas Eve, you’re thinking about that one big regret from this past year as you gaze out your frosted window into a perfect-looking winter wonderland that somehow exists in a world without global warming. Suddenly, a guardian angel or a loved one’s ghost or your future self appears, ready to help you change the past.

Now imagine instead of airing on your grandma’s favorite cable channel, it’s on NFL Network. What would be the one thing each team would change about this season?

Unfortunately, this film doesn’t exist, as far as we know (there are an Avogadro's number of streaming services out there now, so we’re only about 99.9 percent certain here.) But we do have our friends at the SB Nation NFL team sites, who were willing to look back and write about at what was, for most, a painful memory from 2017.

For some teams, this season has been one giant blow to the solar plexus after another, so narrowing the list to just one was difficult. For way too many of them, a major injury was the moment when everything changed.

Others thought that a certain position, player, or one specific game altered the course of the entire season. And sort of surprisingly, one shared regret was not signing 38-year-old Josh McCown.

In the spirit Tiny Tim, a few sites counted their blessings and had to reach to come up with something they’d want their teams to redo.

Here’s the one change our team sites would make if the Ghost of Christmas Past gave them a chance to do this season over again:

The cruel fate of injuries

This was an unfortunate theme of the 2017 season.

Baltimore Ravens: CB Jimmy Smith’s career season getting cut short

I’ve been a huge Jimmy Smith believer since day one. Wrote many articles about him over the past four years, and to watch his best season yet be lost to an Achilles tear is disheartening. He was in line for All-Pro recognition, awards and respect among the league, but it was taken from him due to a torn Achilles.

For more, check out the entire entry at Baltimore Beatdown.

Chicago Bears: How they handled guard Kyle Long’s injury

The one thing I would change about the Bears’ season is they should have allowed Kyle Long to get his body right before letting him play.

Long had offseason surgery on his ankle, but his labrum was also ailing after his 2016 season. He had some complications during his ankle rehab that slowed his readiness for training camp, and that also led to him deciding to put off the labrum surgery.

For more, check out the entire entry at Windy City Gridiron.

Houston Texans: Deshaun Watson tearing his ACL is the obvious (and right) answer

If DW4 hadn’t gotten hurt, he would have surely built upon the electric seven-game sample he tantalized NFL fans with. It’s also entirely possible, perhaps even probable, that he would have led the Texans back to the playoffs. In any event, Watson would have made Texans games appointment viewing again instead of the grim trudge to the finish line they’ve become since he went down.

For more, check out the entire entry at Battle Red Blog.

Indianapolis Colts: If only rookie safety Malik Hooker hadn’t gotten hurt

Hooker is a very young player who only started for a year in his final season at Ohio State. His rookie year was supposed to be all about him growing and developing into a star, all while making opposing quarterbacks pay for errant passes. This defense is being built around young players like Henry Anderson, Johnathan Hankins, Wilson, Melvin and Hooker. The more they can play together, the better it will be for 2018 when they can hit the ground running and be a really good defense. That will have to be put on hold, at least as far as Hooker is concerned.

For more, check out the entire entry at Stampede Blue.

Kansas City Chiefs: Eric Berry’s Achilles injury in the season opener

I can’t help but think what this season would be like if Berry were here. Do the Chiefs go on that losing streak? Does the defense give up 38 points to Josh “Tom Brady” McCown?

I know there’s no point in wondering about all that. It’s not going to change anything. Berry isn’t coming back his injury this year (although I have thought about what an amazing surprise entrance that would be if he did — like Sting returning to WCW in 1997).

For more, check out the entire entry at Arrowhead Pride.

Minnesota Vikings: Star rookie running back Dalvin Cook’s ACL injury

The Minnesota offense is doing well without Cook thus far, certainly. But having #33 in the lineup would make this offense even more dynamic than it already is. There aren’t very many things that I would change about this season thus far for the purple and gold, but if I got the chance to change one thing, we’d still have a healthy Dalvin Cook on the field.

For more, check out the entire entry at Daily Norseman.

New Orleans Saints: They got infected with the dreaded injury bug

The injury to Alex Okafor would be the top thing many would love to take back. Injuries in general are horrible, as the Saints have lost the likes of Nick Fairley, Alex Anzalone, Delvin Breaux, Coby Fleener, A.J. Klein, Nate Stupar, and Zach Strief - to name a few. Fairley’s heart diagnosis was practically a godsend, because the alternative would have been much worse. Klein’s absence is going to be felt, and at this point of the season, there’s not much the Saints can do to to compensate for his loss. Okafor out of the mix has been noticeable on the opposite end of Cam Jordan.

For more, check out the entire entry at Canal Street Chronicles.

If only this one game had gone differently ...

These teams are all still feeling the effects of the outcome or a decision in one game.

Carolina Panthers: Losing to the Bears (wait, that really happened?!)

I’m talking about the stink job the Panthers laid in Chicago back in Week 7. If the Panthers would have won that game (like they should have), they would be 11-3 right now instead of 10-4, would have a playoff spot guaranteed, and would be ahead of the Saints in the NFC South race. This season would be much more fun to talk about had the Panthers not lost that no-good, stupid, rotten, cursed game.

And worst of all - we lost to John Fox, y’all.

For more, check out the entire entry at Cat Scratch Reader.

Dallas Cowboys: Hanging Chaz Green out to dry against the Falcons

The Cowboys insistence on playing Chaz Green at left tackle for the injured Tyron Smith in the game against the Falcons, then giving him absolutely no help, even after it was obvious he was getting destroyed. Not only did this decision lose that game, but the Cowboys were not the same team for the next few games. Only now do they seem to have recovered from that calamity.

For more, check out the entire entry at Blogging the Boys.

New York Giants: Early loss to the Eagles sucked the life out of them

For me, though, the biggest thing I would change is the Week 3 loss to the Eagles.

Desperate for a win at 0-2, the Giants played the first three quarters as though the season was already over, trailing, 14-0, entering the final quarter. Then, a 24-point outburst that saw them take a pair of fourth-quarter leads.

This felt like the kind of sudden turnaround that can change a season. Until it fell apart, with the Giants getting a crushing defeat instead of an uplifting victory.

For more, check out the entire entry at Big Blue View.

Washington: A QB sneak against the Saints could’ve saved their season

When inches are all that you need, why not the keeper? Put a different guy back there for that one play if you are that afraid of getting Kirk [Cousins] hurt. I don’t believe that is the issue, because I don’t believe Kirk would ever make that an issue. If you are worried about signaling to the other team what your intentions are based on personnel, that is ridiculous. The other team knows you need a few inches. It is about to be a fight for those inches. Put your best fighters in, but for God’s sake...get those inches.

For more, check out the entire entry at Hogs Haven.

It all comes back to this position

These teams should’ve made better choices this offseason.

Arizona Cardinals: How they built their OL

The Cardinals had one season of what you could call success along the offensive line, 2015, and changed out 3/5 of that group. Then in 2017, they changed out 3/5 of the group again moving D.J. Humphries to left tackle and Jared Veldheer to right tackle with only Shipley and Iupati remaining intact.

The most important part of offensive line play is continuity… Something the Cardinals have chosen to change to start every year in the Bruce Arians era.

For more, check out the entire entry at Revenge of the Birds.

Detroit Lions: Not addressing the running game (again)

With Matthew Stafford having one of his most efficient seasons of his career, and a pair of receivers nearly hitting 1,000 yards, it’s tragic to watch the season unfold where your quarterback is left carrying a poor defense with no help from his running game. If the Lions had paid more attention to their pass rush, they’d probably be a lot better off, but if they had paid more attention to their run game they could potentially be much better set up not only in 2017, but for the future.

For more, check out the entire entry at Pride of Detroit.

Green Bay Packers: Being unprepared for secondary injuries

Aaron Rodgers getting hurt is the easy answer — too easy. So the Acme Packing Company crew weighed in on something else they wish they had a mulligan on.

Perhaps no area of the team is as affected as the secondary. Green Bay figured to improve its cornerback depth with the additions of Kevin King and Davon House, but both starters have missed extensive time this season with injuries. After playing in 16 games both seasons in Jacksonville, House was notably hit with the injury bug once again while in Green Bay. It’s almost a curse. Without House and King, the Packers have been exposed for their lack of depth at cornerback behind Damarious Randall. Josh Hawkins has struggled in his sophomore campaign, while Green Bay has shied away from giving reps to undrafted rookies Donatello Brown and Lenzy Pipkins. Early season injuries to Quinten Rollins and the developmental Herb Waters didn’t help the situation, but it’s apparent that talent and veteran experience is needed in this unit and should’ve been addressed heading into the regular season.

For more, check out the entire entry at Acme Packing Company.

Los Angeles Chargers: Not choosing wisely at kicker

Deciding to go with Younghoe Koo over Josh Lambo. That decision alone would have given them at least possibly two extra wins. With a competent kicker, they'd have been a playoff team this year.

For more, check out the entire entry at Bolts from the Blue.

New England Patriots: The new faces at RB haven’t worked out like they hoped

This is an evaluation in hindsight because I absolutely loved what the Patriots did at running back. I loved the signings of Rex Burkhead and Mike Gillislee and thought that they would be able to form one of the best duos in the NFL. Burkhead has battled injuries all season and Gillislee has been a healthy scratch since the bye week. It hasn’t gone according to plan.

If the Patriots could do it again, perhaps they would have retained LeGarrette Blount instead of signing Mike Gillislee. The Patriots have used both players in the same fashion- they’ve been grinders between the tackles, but the coaches refused to throw them the ball to soften the run defense in the box- but Blount was a better fit just based on Gillislee’s inactivity.

For more, check out the entire entry at Pats Pulpit.

What a difference one player makes

No one could have predicted these, but still ...

San Francisco 49ers: Imagine if they had traded for Jimmy Garoppolo in the offseason

It would be mostly guess work to suggest how the 49ers would stand right now if Garoppolo had been starting from Week 1. Of the ten losses, the five single-digit games are clearly toss-ups. The second losses to the Seahawks and Cardinals were by 11 and 10 points, respectively. They are not toss-ups, but they would have been more interesting with Garoppolo in the saddle. That’s seven games right there that could have swung differently, so you’re looking at a team that could at the very least have found themselves at .500, if not better.

It’s all just speculation, but it is interesting to consider as we head toward the offseason. Barring anything unexpected, the 49ers are going to be a popular playoff pick next summer. It will be hard to really qualify them as a sleeper if Garoppolo is starting when training camp arrives.

For more, check out the entire entry at Niners Nation.

Seattle Seahawks: Malik McDowell’s ATV accident set off a chain reaction

The injury to McDowell reportedly while riding an all-terrain vehicle before the season set in motion the eventual trade for Sheldon Richardson. Not trading for Richardson again allows the Seahawks to retain a higher round pick, and in addition keeps Jermaine Kearse in Seattle. While fans and writers alike made a pariah of Kearse after struggling in 2016, he has since performed like his old clutch self for the New York Jets. Preventing the injury to McDowell, like all of these changes, has cascading effects throughout the franchise. With more cap space, better 2018 draft capital, and a receiver we know works well with Russell Wilson, perhaps the 2017 Seahawks end up better off.

For more, check out the entire entry at Field Gulls.

Tennessee Titans: Marcus Mariota taking a step back

Ultimately, I decided that the one thing I would change about the Titans season is the regression we have seen in Marcus Mariota. It has been a brutal year for him, and it has us all wondering what he will look like going forward- especially if there are no changes to the coaching staff. He needs to be running and up-tempo, spread-type offense. Mike Mularkey wants to run a slow, tight offense. Those two things haven’t gelled this season.

For more, check out the entire entry at Music City Miracles.

Can’t complain much, honestly

Oh, the season isn’t going well? Couldn’t be these teams.

Jacksonville Jaguars: Blake Bortles getting bit by that radioactive spider or whatever earlier

Maybe the one thing I’d change is flipping whatever switch went off in Blake Bortles’ head a few months earlier. If he had been playing all season as well as he has the last three weeks, we’d be undefeated. Easily. The early losses to the Tennessee Titans and New York Jets do not happen. The Los Angeles Rams don’t have enough fluke special teams plays in the world to overcome it. And the Arizona Cardinals don’t win on a last-second kick.

For more, check out the entire entry at Big Cat Country.

Philadelphia Eagles: Outside of Carson Wentz’s injury, not much

This Eagles season has been special. It’s simply not every year you start out 12-2 with a real good chance to clinch the No. 1 seed in Week 16.

Even with Wentz out, this team still have a legitimate chance to make a Super Bowl run. Their chances are obviously significant worse without Wentz, but hey, who knows.

For more, check out the entire entry at Bleeding Green Nation.

Los Angeles Rams: The waiting was the hardest part

We had to see a 10-win Cleveland Browns team and an 11-win Jacksonville Jaguars team in 2007. We had to see the Oakland Raiders turn things around last year. We had to constantly look upward at the San Francisco 49ers during their three-year run to the NFC Championship or the Arizona Cardinals who had periods of success under former HC Ken Whisenhunt and current HC Bruce Arians or the Seattle Seahawks who have consistently been a thorn in our sides since 2010.

Year after year after year, we waited. And hoped. And something worth celebrating has finally arrived.

I wouldn’t change anything except for how long we had to wait for it to get here.

For more, check out the entire entry at Turf Show Times.

Josh McCown, the one who got away

Maybe McCown has a future career as the love interest in a Hallmark Christmas movie.

Cleveland Browns: Besides everything? Letting McCown walk

McCown was still under contract with the Browns for 2018, but the Browns opted to let him go. He went on to have a great season by his standards for the New York Jets before succumbing to his annual injury bug. McCown had it rough last year after his injury, but the team could’ve kept him in camp this year to evaluate his health. If they had, there’s no doubt that he would’ve out-shined Cody Kessler, Kevin Hogan, and DeShone Kizer in the quarterback room. Brock Osweiler would’ve been cut right away instead of dragging that mess out for so long. I’d venture to guess that Cleveland would have a handful of wins right now too.

For more, check out the entire entry at Dawgs by Nature.

Denver Broncos: They should have signed an established journeyman QB like Josh McCown

Brock Osweiler - a journeyman quarterback now - was the only quarterback who looked like a functional NFL player out there, but the team never really seemed interested in keeping him as the starter. If they had brought in some other journeyman before training camp, maybe they would have liked that guy more.

Who knows. It’s a lot of woulda, coulda, shoulda, but a functional journeyman guy like a Josh McCown or something, probably would have guided this team into a playoff hunt instead of an eight-game losing streak.

For more, check out the entire entry at Mile High Report.

And all the rest

Like stocking stuffers, here are the ones that don’t fit neatly into a box.

Atlanta Falcons: All the little mistakes that cost them games

I’d erase the penalties which erased the interceptions which might have made a difference in the outcome of multiple games this year. I’d delete the interceptions that came off receivers bobbling and bumbling what should have been obvious catches. I’d terminate Julio Jones’ drops, especially the wide open one in the end zone against the Panthers that might have won that game. And I’d definitely send Steve Sarkisian’s decision to run a jet sweep on 4th and goal against the Patriots into the void.

For more, check out the entire entry at The Falcoholic.

Buffalo Bills: Rick Dennison was the wrong choice for offensive coordinator

Buffalo had Cordy Glenn, Richie Incognito, Eric Wood, John Miller, Jordan Mills and LeSean McCoy in 2016 and 2017 along with Tyrod Taylor. But out goes Anthony Lynn and in comes Dennison and the Bills offense drops to 23rd in scoring (down six points a game) and touchdowns. Instead of 5.3 yards per carry and 164.4 yards per game on the ground, Buffalo is averaging 4.2 yards per carry and 129.1 yards per game on the ground. So why are the same Bills players gaining a yard less on every carry and 35 rushing yards less every game?

Offensive coordinator Rick Dennison came in and changed everything about the offense, but especially changing the blocking assignments and the running game. He turned a successful offense into a bad one.

For more, check out the entire entry at Buffalo Rumblings.

Cincinnati Bengals: The youth movement should have started earlier

The Bengals started the season using none of their new young players. They relied on essentially a hollowed out version of last year’s squad to try and win. It did not go well. If I could change one thing it would be to infuse the youth of this roster into the starting lineup sooner and have prepared them better to succeed.

For more, check out the entire entry at Cincy Jungle.

Miami Dolphins: They didn’t start their season in Week 1 like they were supposed to

According to multiple reports back before Week 1, the Dolphins and the Tampa Bay Buccaneers both asked the league to allow the teams to play their season opening game in a neutral field, rather than postpone it until the shared bye week in Week 11, to avoid the dangers of Hurricane Irma. The league decided that moving the game to the bye week was the best option. That should not have been the answer.

The Dolphins (and Buccaneers) had to play 16 straight weeks this season because of that decision. Miami had to move out to California and spend a week there before playing their Week 2 game against the Los Angeles Chargers. The Dolphins did not have a true home game until Week 5, having to play in London in Week 4, a game which counted as a home game.

For more, check out the entire entry at The Phinsider.

New York Jets: Relying too much on veteran players to help win games

I don’t mind winning 5 to 6 games, but if I could change one thing about this Jets season it would be the wins resulting more from young players developing into foundational pieces than veterans having career years.

For more, check out the entire entry at Gang Green Nation.

Oakland Raiders: John Pagano should’ve been the defensive coordinator all along

John Pagano has pressed all the right buttons since taking Ken Norton Jr.’s place after week 11.

Under Norton, the Raiders gave up 368.2 yards and 24.8 points per game. Since Pagano has taken over, the Raiders have given up 304.75 yards and 19.25 points per game. Right now, that 368.2 yards per game would be good enough for No. 28 in the NFL.

If the Raiders had given up 304.75 yards per game all year, they would be No. 4 in the league. Their points per game under Norton would have them at No. 27 right now and if Pagano had the defense from the beginning of the season, they would be at No. 5.

For more, check out the entire entry at Silver and Black Pride.

Pittsburgh Steelers: They wish they could’ve toned down the drama

While I would love to change the amount of drama this team has experienced both on and off the field, it has done a tremendous job proving the mental toughness of this football team. Kudos to Mike Tomlin and company for keeping the team focused on the task at hand, especially when the outside distractions would have ripped apart an average team.

For more, check out the entire entry at Behind the Steel Curtain.

[farafootbushcraft]

Thursday 4th May, evening.

Been a social day – talking to a lot of people about my expedition, letting information in by degrees. Sat outside the pub this evening in the sunshine, along with many more folk. A Glaswegian guy there came to talk to me. He noticed I mentioned bushcraft and said “we’ve all been down that route and left it behind -Its all fat blokes sitting round fires. Didn’t mention Farafoot, where there are women too and no fat blokes. Wonder where he did his bushcraft. He said he’d seen my bivi up at the end of the campsite and told me there are otters up there, on the estuary. He also asked me if I knew there was someone living there, just a few feet away from me. I didn’t. He is doing up his boat in the little bay behind me (I had noticed that!). Anyhow, he said he’d come to talk to me because “its nice to meet someone doing some shit”. I like that. He said he likes Rum and Skye, and comes over here a lot.

Behind my ‘Glitter Beach Bivi’.

More conversations at the pub, and I find myself being quite open since everyone else is. I have had 2 pints of ‘Remoteness’ Ale, the only food I could get (packet of chilli peanuts), and I’ve foraged greens on the mile-or-so walk back to my bivi. It seems the Forge pub restaurant is out of action due to bereavement in chef’s family.

I was talking to a couple doing some of the Cape Wrath trail. They said they were here 20 years ago (or maybe it was 10 years that they said) on New Year’s Eve. They came over on the ferry, were booked at the pub for food, but found pub not serving and ended up in the kitchen of a local being served venison stew. They are from the Brecons, and he is a fell/ultra distance runner. I got into an absorbing conversation with his partner about bunions and the agonies they inflict. Recommended my boots.

Minimal foot damage after 320 miles in my Hanweg bunion boot.

Met a climber/walker from Falkirk, there with a friend to do some routes. He turned out to be a fell runner too, his physio being the inspirational fell champion Angela Mudge. He and his friend and others have recently started the 45 degree mountaineering club.

WHAT AN INSPIRING BUNCH OF PEOPLE TO HAPPEN ACROSS.

Friday 5th May, am.

Went to the snack van this morning for breakfast. Had portobello mushroom and garlic halloumi in a large bap. Free tea refil. Wonderful. Rather more than your standard snack van. Was approached there by another couple who’d heard about my foraging. Also got back into conversation with the couple from Brecon. We got straight into bunion stories again! She’s been having treatment for years and years. She was persuaded against surgery because they were going to put plates in her toes that would prevent flexing. Instead she wears footbeds. I feel very relieved that the boots work for me. Had yet another foot conversation with a young Bavarian woman hiking here alone. She is having a day off because her rigid mountain boots aren’t suitable for the terrain and are wrecking her feet. I noticed she had rock climbing boots on to rest her feet – ouch! Not exactly slippers.

  Love being able to leave my things just lying around here. Feels completely safe in every way. Locals set the tone with use of honesty boxes.

Still hearing cuckoos all the time. Will forever after be nostalgic when I hear them, just as I am for the Pennines when I hear grouse.

Had a newborn baby kind of poo this morning – green, but thankfully not smelly! (Sorry – these kind of details take on some significance when I’m ‘out there’).

Friday 5th May, pm.

I’m sunbathing on the beach – on the west coast of Scotland, in early May! I am so well recovered that I feel like going for a run. I think that’s just my glee expressing itself. Lying here looking up at the hills they look comforting – soft, like antler velvet. This place feels like my Burgh Island of the North (notwithstanding their utter difference, both humane places of sanctuary).

  Friday 5th May, late.

Met another man (from Manchester) staying on the campsite who is doing the Corbetts (now he has done all the Munros). Told me he was at the Sourlies Bothy 10 years ago and there was a mouse who notoriously stole food. The mouse at Sourlies is, apparently, legendary (and its descendants too obviously). NOBODY sleeps in the bothy because of the noise – they all end up outside (except myself then and probably a few other folk who have their own reasons for staying under the roof).

Friendly couple I met in the tea room yesterday also arrived in the pub. She has a sun allergy so is finding the weather difficult!

Saturday 6th May, am.

Over the past few days have spent quite a bit on presents and a ‘Trophy’ pottery chalice for myself. Want to mark this occasion. Have also spent quite a bit on drink since ale is almost £5 per pint at the pub.

As I’m writing, lying in my bivi bag, there is a squeaking and the flattened grasses in front of me move in a ripple across my eyeline. The sun is just coming up behind me.

The Forge last night were miraculously serving food but were fully booked so the proprietor said. He is a very tall Belgian showing no hospitality. The band who were booked to play (and to eat I think) went outside when they got no food, nor audience. He complained about the way our group were occupying tables, although the pub was nearly empty, and removed my stick saying it was dangerous (I do see his point there since it kept falling over, still his manner didn’t help). Eventually he offered food to the man from Manchester who’d had the ambition to try and get fed there – soup and muscles since he obviously had some left over, but was annoyed when he at first couldn’t decide if he wanted both soup and muscles. (I’ve since discovered that soup and muscles are all anyone can ever get there, if they are lucky enough to get served anything at all!)

  Tea Room and Pottery

I took the Western Isles ferry at 10.45 am. Was ready to go hours early, thinking it would be hard to lug my pack the mile or so up the road, but when I lifted it it felt light, and I strong (with even a heavy croc bottle of gin now in there). Said my so-longs to the 45 degree mountaineering club and went and waited at the wonderful tea room/pottery (which I found didn’t open till 10.00 on Saturday). Was longing for a word from home but nothing, so disappointed. People kept turning up with bags and they were all fretting over whether they’d have time for breakfast before the ferry. I got influenced and started to worry too whether I might miss out on my cup of tea. Tried to stop myself being silly and thinking “I was here first!”. They annoyed me with talking about vacuum cleaners, but I didn’t want to shift and lose my place as first in the queue. I thought, had Andy been with me he would have let everyone in before – another good reason to do these things alone!!

Another couple came and sat opposite me. Assumed they’d annoy me too but liked them. We got talking. They asked me about my walk but didn’t say much about themselves. Learned they were from Perth, but only when he got talking with the couple from Brecon I learned that he is a very experienced climber/mountaineer.

There seems to be a type of Scots male climber – stout and hardy looking with an intensity about them that isn’t expressed verbally except when they look at a hill and start talking about it. They don’t have airs and affectations, just knowledge gained on the ground.

On the boat he and the Brecon climber/runner viewed and discussed the Cuillin (ridge on Skye) and gave me goose pimples saying the gabbro (type of rock) is good but you have to be really careful because of the sheer drops and the loose bits. It’s been a while since I’ve climbed with that level of exposure, but you don’t expect chossy Rock on Skye (that’s a feature more in the Alps). He said he had to concentrate really hard there. Such an easy-going and relaxed person who seemed to know the entire west coast area in great detail. I’ve been really impressed in Inverie with the dedication of the walkers and climbers to the region, but their quiet confidence rather than bravado. Bravado would go down very badly in Knoydart.

  I took a ridiculous number of pictures of the Isles: Rum and Eigg but mostly Skye. You could see the black and red Cuillin, but it’s hard to do them justice in a photo from a boat.

Sunday 7th April, am.

Arriving in Mallaig on the ferry yesterday I could feel myself getting emotional, turning my back to everyone incase I cried. Sister, Louise, and mum were at the ferry terminal, so by the time I’d found them it had worn off. IT WAS LOVELY TO SEE THEM and to see that they looked so chilled. Lou took the Morar coastal route out and we ogled the views. It was what mum called a “Brigadoon day” (from the film where a place appears only sporadically and so can’t be returned to at will), referring to the rarity of this kind of weather in the Highlands and Islands. Sunbathing and PADDLING/SWIMMING! going on in the gorgeous bays.

We made for Glenfinnan (very odd to arrive by car) to have a drink. Then Lou set-to taking pictures of me on her made-for-the-job iPhone 7 for the film credits! (She said you always need a good picture of the actual person for the film credits and we need to take it before the ‘look’ wears off!).

When I saw myself in the mirror – just my face – I was quite shocked and worried that perhaps I wasn’t as healthy as I thought. I even had an emotional moment thinking “sorry Andy, sorry Katy, I’ve gone too far”, anticipating their shock. Lou reassured me, though, that actually I look strong and healthy, and just like someone who’s done something monumental. She talked about her wild swim (when she went to Mexico) and how it was possibly the best experience of her life. I feel that way about this. LIFE CHANGING MOMENTS.

Lou took us to the Argyll Hotel in central Glasgow for Saturday night. It feels completely acceptable to come to the centre of a bustling city after the solitude – in a way that going to a duller, smaller town wouldn’t. In fact it’s a bit like going to Kathmandu after Everest – there’s the charm of the contrast (and the relief of safety). And even more similarly, all night I’ve had the window open (so nice to have a hotel window that can be properly opened) and the life on the street hasn’t stopped. The funny thing is that there are some characters who’ve stayed put and been talking to various others, who’ve come and then left, all night. They’ve been talking in such broad Glaswegian accents, though, that I haven’t known what it’s all about – it’s like listening to music (with high points in expletives and emotional renditions), or listening to birds. I loved it. I did sleep, but not very much. I don’t mind at all.

We went walking off last night to find somewhere to eat but everywhere local and suitable for us was fully booked. We ended up in Sauchihall street (infamous according to mum), in an Indian street food restaurant (called Tuk Tuk). Loved it. They didn’t serve alcohol but would just charge corkage for your own. I was happy to go without. Will have that kind of celebration (a toast) with Andy. Felt quite right to be having street food to celebrate completion, especially with the spiritual aspects so strong. I’ve borrowed some pantaloon style leggings from Lou, after being unimpressed with the bag put together for me (not sure whether by me or Andy – I forget). With my hazel pole and big boots I look like an Edwardian gentlewoman climber. All I need is a hemp rope over my shoulder.

Over the course of the day yesterday in catch-up discussions I learned that actually Katy had been in hospital in the later stages of my expedition because the penicillin for her urichal cyst hadn’t worked and she needed IV antibiotics. There had been a debate over whether I should be informed and brought home. Lou’s view was that, since Katy didn’t have a high or low temp there wasn’t a need, and that the consequences could be bad for all of us to let me know unnecessarily- guilt, regret, blame etc. Andy agreed but had the task of mediating everyone’s views. So glad they understood, and of course that Katy is so thoughtful and resiliant. (Andy since told me that I was out of range anyway by then so they couldn’t have let me know).

When I looked in the full size mirror in my room it shocked me to see my body, more that it had to see my face. I look starved. I’m not sure that I’ve ever been so thin (not even after Everest). It’s a bit scary. I even thought I need to put on some fat immediately.

I find, though, in this semi-starved state I feel quite attuned to things – I can feel my emotions and my thoughts acutely. Maybe there is a big difference between the anorexic starvation and the fasting ascetic – in the impacts and state of mind. I know that in an anorexic state (which I entered for a few years as an adolescent) I used to get euphoric (so maybe no difference), but it was driven by unhappiness and insecurity. This leanness has brute strength underpinning it, and a direction for the future. It is something to grow and learn from.

Relaxing in Glasgow

I’m sitting in my (noisy) hotel bedroom window writing and watching people. They all bounce. The morning runners bounce/prance delicately, and pedestrians take jaunty steps to wherever. Is this the effect of the sunshine? Do they grit their teeth, heads down and set against the elements, in the winter? Or is it the Glaswegian swagger? – habitual and maybe even obligatory. It’s Sunday morning and still no sleep goes on. Since dawn and before they’ve all been on the move. The road sweeper truck has just done a bit of a pavement clean-up (8am), making some sort of demarcation between last night and this morning.

Looks like another gorgeous day as we prepare to travel back home – weather which apparently we are taking back down to Shropshire with us after miserable conditions all week!

One week after returning home.

Travelling home was an exciting time to wonder over the distances between points in the walk. The occasional Irishly-inflected comment went through my head – so that phenomenon hasn’t worn off yet!

Then there was a gorgeous welcome from Andy and Katy, with a card and a cake from Katy. The alcoholic toast finally happened, and in style too! Half a case of champagne from Bob (Andy’s dad, but I prefer to say my father-in-law), and much congratulations. But I had nothing at all from my loving Labrador, Faffy. I mean NOTHING. Not even the kind of glance that she’d give an uninteresting stranger. She ducked under my hand when I tried to stroke her. I take it from this that she DID recognise me, but preferred not to acknowledge me. She only forgave me when I took her out for a run.

The run! It wasn’t one really. We are both at square one again. I have nothing in my legs for running, and she has too much round her belly. I suppose that my fitness now is very different: low intensity, endurance. We will get faster again together.

The fitness effort is continuing, and I’ve been intrigued to know what kind of physiological impacts there have been. My body fat mass is 7.9kg, which is quite low – not ideal for staying healthy. The weight loss is obvious (down by a stone), as well as the muscle definition, but I’m a bit horrified by the loss of over an inch (3cm) in height. I NEED TRACTION! It’s probably a mixture of dehydration and compression of the discs from the weight of the pack – hopefully impermanent

I’ve had an MRI scan of my spine since coming home that was booked before I left due to some sensation loss in my left leg (I have check-ups every two years to follow up from my broken back in 2003). It will be interesting to see if there is anything noteworthy happening.

Two weeks after returning home.

My habit of grinding my teeth when I’m asleep seems to have returned, after none during the expedition. I don’t like how my head feels after a night of muscle tension in my jaw, which encourages me to start planning the next expedition (extreme self-medication?!).

Notwithstanding the teeth grinding annoyance I’m still feeling the calming effects of the walk, even to the extent that I feel quite happy with our ramshackle little house and it’s outdated (and many broken) facilities. I’m reminded why we bought it – because it feels like our very own mountain hut: our Bothy.

Expedition from the Backdoor Diary 8: After the Walking Stopped. Inverie, Glasgow and Home. Thursday 4th May, evening. Been a social day - talking to a lot of people about my expedition, letting information in by degrees.

[chrisrunsthemarathon]

How I (hopefully) ran the Marathon. Part iii

Right, the third instalment…

I know The Empire Strikes back gets widely lauded as the best, but Return of the Jedi has always been my favourite so let’s hope this is the same.

Well,  f#*k me, what a nightmare. I’ve never been a big believer in fate, or luck (you make your own right) and I’ve never been superstitious but I’m beginning to think this whole thing is jinxed…

The whole superstition/fate thing is a load of bollocks in my book, how can three lines that Mystic Meg writes in the paper fit for a 12th of the population or to put it into numbers, about 5 million people within the UK. Although I have to admit it is ironic that my Gran was a Cancer given the way she died, she was mauled to death by a giant crab. As I’ve said above though, I can’t help but think this whole thing is doomed to fail.

So, an update on how the running has been going since the last entry…… I haven’t done any. Nadda. None. Nil. Nope. Not a single run at all. Not the ideal preparation and not quite the stage that I wanted to be at. I guess I should explain why.

I finished work for Christmas and was looking forward to some family time, not to harp on about it but it’s not been the easiest few months as anyone who’s read the other entries will know and we thought, “yep, that’ll be good, let’s do some fun stuff”. I managed the Panto on the Friday afternoon which was ace but started to feel a bit rough on Christmas Eve so went off to bed with a couple of Paracetamol thinking I’d be fine when I woke up in the morning. What actually happened was that I woke at 3am so cold my teeth were chattering but I was dripping with sweat at the same time, a full on fever. All of Christmas Day I felt awful, like proper awful. I managed to get downstairs for the kids to open their presents but it was game over after that. I did make it to my sister’s house where I slept on the sofa for an hour and a half before heading home to bed, 24 Pigs in Blankets especially bought in for me untouched. I believe they’re still there..

I laid in bed for the next three days pretty much unable to move just assuming I had flu. Blokes are supposed to get it really bad right? So I figured this must be what they talk about when they say ‘man flu’. I’m really not one to cry wolf with illness or make a fuss so I just sucked it up. Tash moved my lamp into the spare room for me and I lay there for a few days. After a consultation with a student with a ring binder on the 111 service on the fourth day who told me they thought I was fine and just to rest I gave up and went to the doctor. The doc spent two minutes having a look and sent me to the hospital having diagnosed Pneumonia saying I needed IV antibiotics and fluids. This contrasted quite significantly with the diagnosis from my dad when he was driving me to the aforementioned appointment who told me I needed to “get up and about” and “show some mental resolve”. Then as I stumbled/limped/fell into the waiting room, literally feeling on the verge of death he commented “see, you look better already for the fresh air” You can take the man out of Yorkshire….

So without going into too many details, I spent 5 days in the hospital on various drips for fluids and antibiotics and oxygen masks etc trying to recover from the Pneumonia. I don’t know if anyone reading this has had it but I can see how it finishes off the elderly as its bloody horrible and I felt awful. Truly awful. I got sent home on New Years Day (oh yes, my New Years Eve was a belter, particularly when the dickhead in the next bed started making calls to people very audibly at 1am to say hello and the bloke opposite decided to pull out his own catheter and then started screaming “my willy’s bleeding”. He was a lovely old bloke opposite though, very caring, he even got up and tried to help the bloke next to him have a drink. Of course the poor bloke next to couldn’t sit up and would have drowned if the nurses hadn’t stopped him but it was a lovely gesture. You could write a great sitcom about life in an NHS hospital. In fact I should have done to stave off the boredom. Loads of the patients I saw are such ar*eholes. The bloke next to me on my first visit was shouting “lady, lady” all the time at the nurses and all he wanted was for them to plug in his mobile phone. Who needs to plug in a phone at 3am?! Then of course the nurses get distracted as they have 700 things to do and people calling them and go off. After the second time he stopped me getting pain relief by distracting the nurse to get his phone plugged in I had to politely point out that if he interrupted for something so menial again he’d never have to worry about charging his phone again after I’d shoved it where…… I know I know, I’m punchy but it’s been a tough 5 weeks….

To put it into context for those who think I’ve been soft, you get an infection marker in your blood (CRP it’s called, look at me, I’ve got all the medical terms now) and it should be between 0-5 usually. When I was admitted to hospital mine was 450 something.  After 6 days at home where I felt a bit better, but not good I went back to the doctor who said I should be better by now given the drugs and time and so he did another blood test and my CRP was still 170 odd so he sent me back to the hospital where I spent another 4 days. Fortunately not on the acute medical ward this time (well, I was for the first 24 hours and then I got moved) so to be honest the second stint on an different ward felt like I’d been moved to The Hilton. I had a chair, a bedside table and a window…! It turns out the fluid on my lung from the pneumonia hadn’t drained away and had become infected and caused my lung to partially collapse. Oh yes, I’ve been having all the fun….

I was told I’d need either a chest drain to get rid of the fluid or be moved to Southampton hospital for surgery, fortunately for me I only needed the former and after that, coming home and another couple of weeks R&R I’m starting to feel human again………..but I haven’t been for a run yet.

You also start filling the days with meaningless and pointless things in hospital as well. Like going to the toilet far more frequently than you need to because you get to walk there and it’s something to do. Then you spend a good 5 minutes determining if your stools are a type 3 or 4 according to the chart on the back of the door and should you be worried or not (surely they should just stick a newspaper in there). It really is/was that bad. Not to be cliché either but the food really is almost inedible. I know they cater for large numbers, and on a budget, but still, how people ever get better eating that is a mystery. Its worth publicly commenting Berni Hampton that the Spaghetti Bolognese you made me on my second stint in hospital saved my life. It was easily the best Spag Bol I’ve ever had and sitting there chatting to Grant while I polished it off was the best I’d been in 3 weeks, a real turning point.

Tash should get a shout out here as well. I’ve cited in previous entries about her ability to cope and get on with it but bugger me she really is awesome. As well as everything she has going on, and spending Christmas solo with the kids (family obviously but in terms of looking after the little one’s) she managed to do a month’s worth of early wake ups, breakfast shift, get them dressed, bath time routines, bedtime routines all on her own and still cope with work, general life and fit in coming to see me every day, bring me Smarties, deal with my moods about the whole thing and cheer me up/tell me to man up where appropriate. I’ve promised I’ll make it up to her. I won’t put my trainers on until I get out of the house now.

So far this has all been pretty depressing hasn’t it, it’s like an entry in Adrian Mole’s diary “today I measured my pecker, still fuc*ing small”…

So the marathon………and running and where I’m up to with that. Well,…… I’m still convinced I can do it. Various members of my family, friends and most importantly my wife have told me that there’s no chance and I’m an idiot for even considering it. I’ve spoken to Rebecca at Anthony Nolan and they’ve been brilliant and told me I can defer and do it next year for them if I want to and just continue my current fundraising but with no pressure to do two lots (ie. For two years entries). I guess I won’t be the first person to ever pull out should I have to. I should note at this stage that I definitely will do it, even if I have to defer and do it in 2018. People have been amazing with their kindness and generosity for the charity and that’s not been missed and this isn’t a ‘get out of jail card’ for me, I will do it and I will make sure I put myself through it for those donations. Every penny is vital and I want to make sure I’ve earned it. Especially when you look at some of the incredible donations like that anonymous one for £1,000. Ha ha, anonymous, yeah right, we ALL know who that was (love you mate, can’t wait to get back in our favourite restaurant). That one also specified I had to do it in 3 and a half hours or pay it back and that target time might be beyond me this year now I’m 6 weeks behind schedule and my lungs are still like that scene in the The Matrix when Neo is reborn and comes out gasping for air.

So I’ve decided I’m going to let the professionals make the decision. I have a follow up with a respiratory consultant on Monday and they’re going to X-ray my lungs and see how I’m doing. I’ll ask them outright if I can run and if they say no, it’ll be put back to 2018. Definitely not the outcome I want, possibly for the best but I’ll be desperately disappointed if that’s what they say. Having been so ill however, I don’t want to go through that again and if they tell me my body can’t cope in three months time then I won’t risk it. Hopefully they’ll tell me I’m good to go and I can pick up the training. Otherwise I’ve got a hotel room going spare on the 22nd. There’s no point using it on Marathon Day otherwise, it’s packed and you can’t get anywhere…

In a bit of good news, all of those emails and looking for contact details finally paid off. The bloody nice people at the Manchester United Foundation sent me a signed football that turned up in the post the other day. All I have to do is send them details of what I do with it/how much I raise and they’ll forward me on a certificate of authenticity with it as well. What a nice bunch and a terrific gesture from the League Cup Runners Up 2017. Looking at it, I think if I auction it I’ll raise less than if I raffle if as I’m reliant on one person paying lots at an auction so I’m going to advertise it as far and wide as I can at £1 a raffle ticket. I’m film it all and make it all visible so if you’re interested in a ticket, two or more let me know and I’ll work out the best way to collect the money etc. It goes without saying that 100% of the money taken will go to the charity. There’s no fees, costs anywhere, they gave me the ball for nothing so it’s all going to Anthony Nolan.

Running wise I’m going to give it a go at the weekend with a slow/short run just to test the water. I gave 9 holes a whirl this week and that felt OK (other than the fact my putting was dreadful but that’s to be expected after 5 weeks). I had a little bit of pain in my back where the drain was the next day but it’s cleared up pretty quickly. I guess we’ll just have to see if I make it back from my run on Saturday morning. Hopefully I’ll feel fine, trample mud all through the house and we’ll be back to normal.

And that’s where I’m up to. I’m sorry it wasn’t very funny, or cheery, or positive but it’s reflective of the past 5 weeks for me. I’ll keep you posted with a short entry early next week on the verdict (if anyone is even reading this..) In the meantime, if you want to sympathy sponsor me the link is still in the first entry on this blog page. I try to keep a positive outlook if I can and I always like to look for a silver lining, I lost loads of weight over Christmas (almost two stone in that first week of illness), I didn’t spend any money and if you notice, I haven’t moaned once about the pain in my legs………

Love,

Chris x

[cosmosogler]

didn’t do much today. got up before 10:30. stumbled into the bathroom and took my meds. felt like i was forgetting some, but i took them in order and i was looking at my bedtime meds. i normally wake up on my chest but it’s so sore these days that i usually end up on my back when i put my alarm on snooze for a few minutes in the morning.

i cooked myself the other two veggie burgers for lunch, and i almost ate both of them. it seemed like my appetite was coming back a little bit. i was very lethargic all day. wasn’t focusing very hard on anything in particular. i did beat the beginner doubles battles and multi battles over the course of the day at least. so... i can start doing the more difficult challenge. the final goal would be a 200-win streak to get every item you can win, but i don’t really need the last item... i don’t think i would use it. i would just know i had it. i’ve never gotten it before. i think that’s been the grand prize since generation 3. i’ve never even seen anyone use it for anything. it’s really dependent on luck in battle and by the time it activates half the potential boosts wouldn’t be helpful.

the second to last prize doesn’t seem like that big a deal either. i’m more interested in hitting a 50-win streak. that’s when you get the stamp in your trainer passport. which is even more useless than either of the grand prizes! 

well, technically, nothing in the game helps me personally. i just do it because it’s fun. or, when it’s not fun, i can trick myself into feeling like i accomplished something.

anyway while i was flopped on my desk i managed to call the doctor and she can see me tomorrow morning. it’s even at a nice time for me. i gotta finish this prescription first though so i can stay on my “start on sunday” schedule... luckily the next few days are just sugar pills so hopefully the side effects will cool off a little bit.

i was thinking about maybe taking pictures of wiley while we’re out in the yard. i used to like taking pictures, and wiley is a really pretty dog. eve and doge don’t like the camera so i generally have to pretend i’m using my phone to text and turn off all the sound. they only notice i’m trying to take a picture if i point the lens at them. it’s kind of funny. they do it with my 3ds too since it has the lenses.

or i take pictures of them zoomed in through the window while they’re lounging in the yard. i took a really good picture of eve and doge laying together in the shade a few years ago. i’ll put it in a post. i think i’ve uploaded it before but it makes me happy to look at it.

for dinner mom and dad decided they wanted mexican food. i was crying internally because ralberto’s is so bad, but mom said she was talking about manuel’s. manuel’s is on bell road and it has THE BEST SALSA. i have never tasted better salsa in my life in any mexican restaurant i’ve been to. the only person who makes better salsa than manuel’s family is my aunt sharon. i don’t know what she puts in it but i can’t ever get enough of it. and she must make it in her bathtub because there’s buckets of it when she makes it for parties. when i’m at her house sometimes for my cousins’ birthdays i end up just sitting by the salsa tank.

i got sidetracked. the point was that i went with dad to pick up this mexican food and then i sat and ate it. i got sick right as i had the first bite of my enchilada but i forced myself to keep eating because i have been so hungry. 

while i was on the road with dad there was a song that came on the radio and dad was like, “oh man, i used to play this song all the time in my firebird.” he told me about the Good Old Days when he had a convertible and long hair and an enormous speaker set  that he kept in the back seat so he could blast this single song every time he rolled up to his friends. he said he had it on a cassette and it was the first track so he could always find it right away to put it on when he got in earshot of his friends.

i kinda looked at him and i said “i admire your dedication to having a theme song.”

then he told me that before junior year of high school for a few years he just flat out had no friends because they all started doing drugs and he didn’t want to so he stopped hanging out with them. and judging from how his brother turned out (dead) he had good reason. i didn’t know uncle jimmy very well. he had trouble following rules, i think he gets that from his mom. my dad’s like that too sometimes. he won’t do something just because you asked/told him to do it.

he was chronically homeless so we’d let him stay at our place. we’d gotten this house specifically to house long term guests. we’ve had a variety of people stay with us between houses or jobs. but uncle jimmy, he had an ancient beetle with faded blue paint, and he was always working on it. and by working on it i mean he would disappear and leave his car in our garage. it had a sticker on the window that said “skydive naked - balls out” and mom would turbo frown every time she saw it. the rule he had to follow was “don’t smoke” because dad hates the smell and also if you don’t properly dispose of the butts the dogs get into them. but that wasn’t the reason, it was mostly just because dad hated the smell and mom liked having A Rule. they probably had other arrangements that i was too young to be told about. 

he got sick. i don’t know how or with what. a heart attack? he’d always been a real bruiser, but prone to getting overweight. but he died. dad didn’t let any of us go to the funeral because his family tends to get drunk at gatherings and they often top off their reunions with a good brawl.

the point of that story was that dad grew up pretty poor but married into a rich family of basically immigrants who got lucky with their engineering degrees. but even though dad is now securely in the middle class he thinks of himself as the perpetual tough guy blue collar underdog. i think that’s why he keeps his part time job at ups, aside from the great insurance that i need to live and have depended on for 14 years since my heart surgery. he likes to come off as gruff and badass but he’s kind of, a tired old supernerd. it’s fascinating how much time he puts into cultivating his look. 

and jimmy was bigger and stronger than him! dad’s the responsible one in his family!!

but i think he still, kind of, has that attitude of, i don’t know, having to physically fight everyone that he had growing up. i don’t know how to describe it. i also am not quite sure how his political views work. he seems to be getting more moderate and also more extreme as he gets older. he’s always been a huge fan of unions, but not when they start strikes, but he hates getting screwed over by the board of directors of ups, but he supports big business because that’s what the greatest country in history was built on. like, he’s a republican in theory, but as soon as the downsides of conservative policies affect him he gets frustrated. but he also gets frustrated when people take action to get a better working environment because “things aren’t that bad.” 

hmm. it’s like, he expects things to be bad for him, because that’s his lot in life, and only whiners complain about what they’re given. he’s like that with mom too. and he’s pretty catholic and very traditional with masculinity and the nuclear family dynamic. it’s like, a self fulfilling prophecy with him. he expects things to be bad, so he reacts to everything as if he’s already in a bad place, which gets him into a bad place?

he always calls me a wuss because i’m more of a pacifist. even though i’ve been bullied and in fights before... but then he turns around and says “you’re a better person than me.” and he taught me how to fistfight effectively. it feels like his opinion of me depends on his mood.

he also laughed at me after i was working on barbara’s car with him yesterday. we went in the grocery store to get her stuff and i said i was gonna go wash my hands because they were oily and dusty. he said this is why i’m always sick and licked his fingers. i said i don’t like having dirty grease all over my fingers and i’m gonna wash it off. he said something like a little grease never hurt anyone. 

i dunno. i really don’t like having anything on my hands or face. it’s a little weird because when i do stuff like yardwork or building i have trouble getting started. but as soon as i get started i’m fine with it. until i’m not doing it any more, and then i need my hands clean immediately. it’s like swimming. i don’t want to get wet, and then when i’m in the pool or ocean i have a great time, and then when i get out of the water i want to be dry immediately and am super uncomfortable until i’ve washed my hair because it feels all grimy if i don’t at least soap it off afterward. or i get sand on my feet and don’t want to put on my shoes or walk anywhere off the beach until my feet are c l e a n. 

maybe i set myself up for failure there too. i really don’t handle germs well, immune system wise. i think my immune system didn’t develop properly because my body was always in overdrive mode with the bad heart. so i was sick literally all the time even when i had just been sick with the same strain of flu and it always takes me weeks to recover from anything. since high school i’ve started getting better and only get sick maybe three times a year in a good year. this year’s been bad so far though especially with the mysterious illness.

so i learned to keep everything clean and then i REALLY never built up my resistance to disease.

i also wash my hands every time i drive, but that’s because i have watched mother sneeze directly onto the steering wheel more than once.

i feel a little better when i’m writing my journal entries. it keeps my mind off how bad i feel physically. but then i start feeling emotionally junky when i bring up all these buried feelings and memories. 

eve seemed to be feeling much better today. she was back to walking just sort of funny, the way she’s always walked. the only time she moves her legs normally is when she’s running or prancing around. and even then she runs greyhound style, not regular dog style. so i think the odd way she carries her hind legs is more a greyhound thing than a leg thing. 

i was talking to dad about how she used to catch the birds in our backyard when she was younger. dad said she caught a lot of birds. i said that if i’d been the hunting type she would have been a beast at nabbing waterfowl. she probably wouldn’t be too good at catching rabbits though, she’s too heavyset to turn quickly enough. she’s got, like, the legs and face and ears of a greyhound, but the chest and fur and tail and feet of a black lab. so when she runs into you she hits like a truck. the birds never stood a chance. dad said the worst was when she brought birds to the door that were only half dead. 

she’s also, sort of, abnormally good at manipulating her environment, for an animal? if something’s in her way she either jumps over it or pushes it. diogi and wiley have never touched the baby gate, and if a door is cracked open they treat it like it’s closed because they see that they won’t fit through the crack. but eve hops the baby gate or tips it over, and pushes open doors, and actively tricks the other dogs. she’s not much for standing on her back legs, but if she was i probably could have taught her to flip the lights when she wanted. ping was a little bit similar, where he figured out how to open doors and he liked to push everything off the counters and all the photo frames off my dresser. but he never applied more force to anything than a tap. when we velcroed the modem to the counter he stopped tipping it over even though he could have easily gotten it if he’d pushed harder.

she also recognizes a lot of words and phrases. wiley and diogi are pretty good at that too, but eve figured out “cross here” for crossing the street during our walks and “this way” when she turned the wrong way at a fork in the road, while wiley seems to think i am babbling at him. she also picks up really fast on when you’re trying to teach a new trick to wiley and will start doing it sometimes. there’s a few tricks she doesn’t do mostly because she doesn’t like people touching her paws. she wags her tail, very tiny wags, when she’s confused.

she’s also the only animal who’s ever like, grabbed me and tried to take me somewhere. wiley grabs my arm sometimes but he usually just wants to play tug of war.

i dunno. i’ve been writing for a really long time now. i forgot to do some daily stuff in pokemon. i don’t want to leave it until i wake up... but it’s also after 1 and i want  to sleep. it’ll only take a few minutes.