Psych.

Tried.

I had returned home shortly after my escapades in the sin city having learned valuable life lessons in the way of adulting. I assumed my spiral was meeting it's end and I was being as productive as I could be.
I was working out constantly and dropping pounds like never before.
But, I had gotten thrown into incredible debts that needed to be paid. Hospital bills. Etc.
So close to getting that job. But so far away.
As if that wasn't enough, it seemed like life wasn't finished tossing me around.
One lovely morning, I woke up with a pain so intense that it seemed as if someone was twisting a serrated blade in my lower right side.
Wonderful. After a while, I decided that I needed to definitely go to the hospital. My pops came home and rushed me into the ER. Low and behold, after a few painful tests and ultrasounds, life spit in my face in the form of a massive tumor on my right ovary. I laughed. I laughed so hard I was out of breath. Then the anxiety hit. The absolute dread filled my system and I curled up, stomaching the pain, on the hospital bed. I sobbed. My father tried his absolute best to keep me calm but when stress piles onto you constantly, there's a breaking point.
But of course, little ol Ash has to be the invincible one. Nothing can move me. So I laughed it off once more and cracked jokes with my surgeon until I was unconscious and getting sliced open to remove the disgusting mass and affected ovary.
A moment of silence for my right ovary that worked so hard to produce eggs and hormones.
It's not the surgery that sucks. It's the recovery.
All I want to do is get back to working out and I want to start working a job already. I hate being a burden to the people around me. I hate being taken care of for long periods of time.
In other words, I want to get my life together at this instant. That hole in my abdomen is incredibly annoying. At least it wasn't cancer. Moving on.