Hello, y'all—it's been a minute.
A lot has happened since I last wrote. Most of it bad, some good, very little indifferent.
Since my last post, a lot of terrible stuff has happened in the world at large, and a lot is happening right now. All I can say about that is that my prescription for lorazepam (Ativan) used to last for more than a year, but now I need it refilled every couple of months. I’m not using it daily, but I am taking it “as needed” more often than I used to. Not habitually, just not every couple of months like before.
On March 28th I was walking home from the Morse Red Line station, and I accidentally walked face-first at my full walking speed into a tree branch. I was trying to get around some people that were walking too slow for my taste on the sidewalk and not paying attention to where I was going. The sun was also in my eyes because I had forgotten my eyeglasses with Transitions™ lenses at home that morning. The branch hit me about a quarter of inch from my left eye. I must have flinched at the last second, sparing said eye from injury. My face bled like the dickens, and I thought for certain that I was going to have to go to an emergency department to get a couple of stitches to staunch the bleeding, but thankfully a compress of paper towels stopped the bleeding in about an hour-and-a-half. I had a pretty wicked shiner in addition to the gash—thank goodness it looked worse than the actual injury. A day later kind people asked me if I was safe at home after seeing my wounds. I assured them that I was safe from everyone, and everything, save my own inattention and impatience and thanked them for asking about my welfare. Below is a picture of my eye after most of the bleeding stopped. It’s not that gnarly looking, but if the sight of blood squicks you out, scroll quickly to the next block of text.
The reason that I remember the date this minor accident happened is because it is when I found out that my dear friend, former roommate, and one-time business associate Michael Polino was lying in a hospital bed in New Orleans fighting a rare autoimmune disease called dermatomyositis complicated with interstitial lung disease. While walking home after the accident with the tree I tried reading a text message from my barber and friend Jon. I could only read with my right eye because I was holding a wad of Kleenex™ brand facial tissues on my left one to quell the bleeding that a kind witness to my fight with the tree had given me. Since I had forgotten my eyeglasses, all I could gather from Jon’s text were the words “Polino” and “ICU”—never a good combination. I had Jennifer read me the full text message when I got home and it was very bad news. Mike’s doctors had tried a medical Hail Mary of some sort called an IVIg and it had not helped. At this point they were just trying to keep him comfortable—a cursed phrase—and hope that his oxygen levels would stabilize. Apparently, Mike had remained concious and communicative for weeks longer than what is considered possible given how low his oxygen levels were, but he had lost conciousness a few days before I found out about his illness. The next afternoon he passed away with his fiancée and some family at his bedside. He was forty-one. I want to write more about Polino but I just cannot. My grief is still too raw. Maybe one day I will be able to write a piece about him, but today is not that day. Just know that I will love and miss him forever.
I have written about Mike before on this blog: The Birth of Dirtbag Bolognese. You can reread that piece if you like. In that post I promised a much longer piece about my experiences working in the High-Hat Club. This is not that piece. This is more of a proof-of-life dispatch—after all it’s been many months since I posted last. The beginning of the year was full of promise on a micro level. On the macro level I knew that this year was going to be a shitshow of unbelievable magnitude—and boy have I been proven right. Enough about that for now. Here is a link to his obituary if you care to read it: Obituary for Michael R. Polino
I wrote a piece early in the year about my goals for 2025. Not resolutions, just some nice things that I wanted to do this year. These goals have been so far out of mind that I honestly forgot that I had even written such a post until I reread it yesterday. All of these are good things to pursue and the year is not quite over, but I think that I will have to pursue most of these goals at a further date. Right now I just don’t have the energy for much more than working full-time and trying to stay on top of my activities of daily living. My job is going well by the way. I really love the work and I love my patients and coworkers. In early July I sat for my Certified Recovery Support Specialist exam and I am glad to say that I passed. A few bureaucratic hoops were jumped through and a not trivial amount of money was spent and I ended up receiving my certificate on August 27th, almost two years to the day when I started the process. Could I have gotten it sooner? Probably, but I am thrilled to have it now.
In late June my mom became very ill and I went to Texas for about a week in July to be with her. Her health has improved somewhat since then, but she is still working very hard to recover in a rehab center. She has not been in her own home since June 17th. Please keep her in your thoughts and prayers.
Don’t forget to get your Covid shots while you still can. I caught it again a couple of weeks ago. Thank goodness I did not pass it to Jennifer—she remains novid—or to any of my patients or my co-worker and boss. Like the first two times I had it this time seemed to be a relatively mild case, but you never know what the longterm effects are going to be—here’s hoping that I fully recover. I cannot get my vaccine for several more weeks, but I urge y’all to get yours. With that anti-vaxxer nepo baby, worm-addled dipshit running the HHS we cannot take for granted that they will be around for much longer. This truly is the stupidest timeline imaginable.
Wish me and my fellow Chicagoans (especially the black and brown ones and members of other marginalized groups) luck in the upcoming siege of our fair city. I think that Chicago is not going to be a nut that cracks easily for this fascist regime, but I think it is going to be very bad here for quite some time.
Farewell my lovelies. I promise not to take so long between posts, but as we all know, I am a reliably unreliable correspondent. Until next time, I love y’all.
Thank you, as always, for reading.
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