ATTACK!

I'm coming out of my shock that Daddy's died. What's left is sorrow, floods of tears and panic attacks.

The latest surgery follow-up and where-do-we-go-from-here with my neurologist Scott Plotkin is coming up. No MRI is scheduled at this point and I hope to everlovin’ fuck I catch a break and have some time off from the tube. Why’s this bugging me now? I woke at 3:30 AM having an MRI inspired panic attack.

Ten has gone to Minneapolis to visit his son and meet his new granddaughter. I’m in bed, which my PT told me (con forza) I can’t get out of without assistance. For some odd reason this has stirred up a, you guessed it, panic attack.

Jen is now home, after taking Ten to the airport. She just went back to her house (a mere 10 feet away) to feed and pat her cat, Skitter. I’m on the verge of another panic attack.

What the bloody fuck!? 

I truly need to be in Silica Lagoon Heaven RIGHT NOW, just floatin’ and chillin.’  By the by, as of today COVID restrictions in Iceland have been lifted and, as long as I show my vaccine certificate I'm OK to enter the country. HOT DAMN!