A recent step on the bathroom scale confirmed what my shortness of breath on long flights of stairs already told me: I’m heavier than I want to be. But the men I date like that in a guy. How does a gay bear keep his dance card full when the time has come to reject his inner heifer?
Jenni Prokopy is not to be underestimated. Founder and ‘editrix’ of ChronicBabe.com, a Chicago-based blog about young women experiencing chronic health issues, since June 2005 she has chronicled her personal journey with persistent illness. Along the way, she’s provided messages of hope for young women suffering in a similar way. Her mantra in the midst of it all? Never forget the babe that you are.
Pastry Chef Chris would call to sniff at me later in the day, in between bouts of coughing. My old beau’s new beau spent the weekend in the hospital with a high fever. The test results arrived back yesterday afternoon. ‘Yep,’ Chris said. ‘He’s got swine flu.’
There are many words that your doctor can probably go ahead and edit out of an oral report on your CT scan results. ‘Most likely benign’ are not among them. Given the rigamarole and drang I went through that led up to the words being written, I felt I had earned hearing them.
There’s nothing like the feeling that you’re eternally just about to pass a frozen chicken to light a fire under your butt. Under those circumstances, however, home remedies can only go so far. Their effectiveness tends to run out much the same time that your dignity does, too. In my case, both limits were reached while lying prone on my hallway rug, attempting to squeeze an enema bag with one hand while shooing my cat away with the other, neither endeavor ending up a success.