Men can’t pick up. I’m not talking about picking up girls, games, or friends that need a ride home from the bar; I’m talking about stuff around the house.
Endless Illness
Recently, I was sick -I mean really sick- for weeks. The first time I went to the emergency room—yes, I went twice—I found out I was dangerously low on sodium. Who knew that was even a thing?
After about six months of misery and a total collapse of my health, the doctors finally got serious about finding the culprit. Turns out, the red flags had been there all along in my monthly diagnostic reports—my adrenal gland was failing. That little bugger regulates a lot of organ functions.
You know what they say: “All’s well that ends well.” I’m finally starting to feel like myself again—the Kerry of 2023. I’ve even decided to dramatically dub 2024 as “The Year Kerry Almost Died Twice.” Because honestly, that’s what it felt like. I survived melanoma, but the very treatment that saved me—Keytruda—also nearly killed me.
Say what you will about our broken American healthcare system (and yes, it’s definitely broken; my emergency room experience is a blog post all on its own), but modern medicine and drug development are light years ahead of where they were just a decade ago. Navigating the system was almost impossible, but once I did, the medicine and knowledge-based care I received was top quality.
Words to Live By
My new motto? Don’t sweat the small stuff. Really, that has always been my motto, but now it carries a deeper meaning.
So, when Grady doesn’t shut the kitchen cabinets or close the drawers, I’m happy to do it—because you know what? I’m just happy I can.
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