Tuesday, May 3, 2011


So I went to the hospital. The doctor wanted me there so good thing. Ashley has some lovely (Insert sarcasme there!) choices to make. All these choices lead to high risk of death.

She can leave the clot that goes from her ankle to her illiac and possibly higher (now keep in mind this vein was clear three weeks ago to put in a filter past the other clot!) and lose more and more of the use of her leg. (It's already swollen like her other leg.) Doing this risks having a large clot plugging her filter and starting a new clot growing on both sides of the filter (leading to thrombosis) or having a large clot slip through her filter and getting thrombosis, or for it to grow up past her "V" where the veins split for right and left.

Or she can do the procedure like she's done before, getting most of the use of her leg back (not as much as last time because they can't be as aggressive) but it would make the above problems less likely. The problem here is she could have another brain breed which almost killed her the last time. The doctor starts out the lovely talk by saying to her "I need you to listen carefully. You understand you're lucky to be alive after the last brain bleed?"

Great. And he may still send her to Seattle depending on what the Seattle blood specialist says. Are we having fun yet?

So, I need to write. I need to finish my story. I need to forget these choices if for only a little while. I need to write past the anguish. The pain, the sorrow. How many people use writing to help get out angst, kill off people who hurt you or forget your troubles by immersing yourself in your writing?

It's theraputic and much cheaper than therapy and defense lawyers. LOL

Tell me some of the stories you have of using your writing theraputically.

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