Hi, I'm Kurt. A binge-drinking, pill-popping disco diva with a heart of platinum and an appetite for self-destruction.
Welcome to Sleepless Solitude: The True-Life Journals of a Xanax'd Millennial (Part 1 of 2).
Adapted from a collection of nightly...
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June 29
In an attempt to get an extra hour of pay in – I say, "pay," because I don't really do much work – I got to The Clubhouse for 9 a.m. today. Nothing special. I worked until 1:30 p.m., and then punched out and took transit to Fairview Mall, where Mom was waiting for me.
I feel a lot calmer around my parents now. Again, because my new job and anti-depressant medication both started around the same time, I don't quite know what this calmed demeanor around my family is a result of. Either way, it's nice to not be frustrated with them all the time. I think a part of it is really just accepting people for who they are – quirks and all. Hell, I'm far from perfect and my parents more than put up with me.
Mom and I arrived at the hospital for another foot appointment with Dr. Europia. Not just any foot appointment, though. After six long weeks, I was finally getting my pin removed today.
Before spending an eternity in our usual waiting room, I had some X-rays done in another wing of the hospital. Standard stuff. Finally, I was called into the post-op clinic with Mom, and a nurse started to undress my toe. I was squirming like a motherfucker.
Since I hit my foot on my bed two days ago, my toe has been fucking killing me. As a result, I had a strong suspicion that today's appointment would not go well. The nurse successfully removed all bandages around my toe, and then Dr. Europia arrived. What happened next was almost too traumatic to describe.
Dr. Europia walked over to the hospital bed I was sitting on.
"So, what are we here for today?" Dr. Europia asked in her thick accent.
"It – it's been six weeks? I think we're removing the pin today," I responded, confused as to why an experienced surgeon would be asking me such a question.
"Alright then," Dr. Europia said while looking at a chart.
Without saying another word, Dr. Europia walked over to another table and grabbed a two-foot-long pair of metal pliers. Still silent, Dr. Europia returned to my bed, used the pliers to clamp down on the top of the pin, held my foot in place with her other hand, and – pulled.
Oh. My. God.
Even writing about it now, I've got chills. The pain was so motherfucking bad. I can hardly describe it. When I saw the X-rays on the computer, I realized that the pin was much further into my foot than I had originally thought. This was confirmed when Dr. Europia plied the pin out, as I could feel that fucking thing moving from the middle of my instep, clicking every bone and joint along the way.
I gasped.
"You bent it, huh?" Dr. Europia asked calmly.
She knew.
Before I could answer, I needed Dr. Europia to do something about the blood gushing from the newly exposed hole at the top of my toe. Blood was flowing out of me like a fountain, and Dr. Europia was just letting it run without any concern.
"My – my toe!" I stuttered. "The blood! Do something! I...you...it's gushing!"
Dr. Europia stopped the bleeding, and I proceeded to make up a story about the pin getting stuck in my bedsheets and pulling my toe. She said everything was fine, but that was why it hurt – I had most definitely bent the pin.
Nevertheless, it was over. The pin was out. Thinking about the appointment now, the entire experience was almost comical. The way Dr. Europia yanked the pin from my foot so casually, the pliers, the gushing blood – everything. There's still going to be a lot of swelling and pain, so wearing a shoe won't be on the horizon anytime soon. Still, I can now get my foot wet. I can shower. I can swim. I am free of that godforsaken pin! And just in time for Pride. Oh, happy day!
After the hospital, I went to Casa Z to relax for a bit. Mom and Dad drove me back to the Witch Cave a few hours later, as they had a meeting to attend downtown.
Before leaving the house, I asked Dad if I could have some of our neighbor Bruce's Backyardigans weed. As suspected, Dad said sure. However, he then pulled out some dispensary stuff Bruce had given him and encouraged me to, "Take, take!"
See? That's how awesome my parents are. I want them to know how much I love them. I only wish I knew a better way to express that affection and appreciation. I'm trying.
Once I was dropped off at the Witch Cave, it didn't take long for me to break open the buds. As usual, I smoked too much and didn't do anything productive for the rest of the night. Fuck. I even had a lead for a new job at The Toronto Film Group, and I am totally blowing it. You're a fucking turd. Get it together.
