Knock, knock. Who's there? Broken hearts.

It is surreal to be doing this again, so soon after the last time. It's not fair to me, and it's super unfair to those who were closer than I was to either or both of them.

I just want someone to tell me all her favorite jokes, because I never was any good at remembering jokes. And I want someone to hug me just a little too hard. And I always want to remember the sound of her voice the way I can right now.

She was the star of this magical adventure, which I think characterizes the kind of excitement and wonder and joy that seemed to constantly flow from and around her.

I started to write a song today, thinking about the people who leave us and go somewhere we can't follow. This is some of it.

Poem from a Song About Too Much Loss
for M.D.

Don't know where they go.
Can't be there, so I'll be here,
Picturing your face. 

In particular, this face right here.

Y Would You Say That, X-actly?

Because I had to change health insurance carriers twice in the last four months, I don't have a primary care physician anymore. So when I needed to see a doctor (somewhat urgently), I had to scramble a bit to find someone in my network who is accepting new patients. None of the doctors that were at all recommended fit both criteria. So, tomorrow I meet with a random stranger to talk about what hurts.

In making the appointment, the person on the phone hesitated audibly, palpably even, before asking me my sex. I did not give a one-word answer. (Hell, it was more than one sentence.) After hearing me out, they replied, "I'm okay with that."

Sure, I'd rather have them okay with it than not okay with it. But it's not like they offered their opinion about my birth date or phone number. Still, it was easier than sitting alone with a clipboard staring down two check boxes.

Poem Partially Explaining Why I Sometimes Avoid Healthcare

Cis professional
Is okay with my gender.
Permission granted.

It's so much simpler at Radio Shack.