Holidays

On Thanksgiving 1988, my Nana died. She was the only person in my family who felt like family. She died on thanksgiving, the actual day. Her husband, my grandfather, died on Christmas of that same year. On Thanksgiving of 1994, a friend, whose wedding I officiated, died of brain cancer. He was 29. My mother died a week after thanksgiving in 2017.

Last year, I got COVID at a Christmas party a week before we were scheduled to move into a new apartment, and 2 weeks before a trip to Mexico, which we had to cancel and eat the entire cost.

Thanksgiving this year I had hip bursitis so painful I couldn't walk. It just got better, after a cortisone shot. Last week, I started feeling a little toothache, ironically a couple days after I scheduled a first checkup with a new dentist. I ignored it, thinking it could wait until the Jan 3 appointment. It couldn't. Tomorrow, Dec 23, I'm scheduled for an emergency root canal.

So let me say with all the sincerity in my heart: Fuck the holidays. Fucking fuckity fuck them all the way to the moon.

Update: I forgot one! Thanksgiving 2019, I was super excited to run a 5k Turkey Trot around Lake Merritt with my sister-in-law and niece and nephew. Like very, very excited. But I got sick a few days before Thanksgiving, and after quite a lot of examination, it turned out that I had tonsillitis, and I got it from the very affectionate Reina, the elderly chihuahua I was living with at the time. So not only did I not get to run the race, I had to explain that it was because I got tonsillitis from a dog. Perfect.