I still love him. I don’t know why. I’m a smart person, a rational person, and God knows stare reality in the face every day otherwise I’d die.

Maybe I’ve been watching too much Grey’s Anatomy. The Henry marrying Dr. Teddy is too much for me. He even has a speech he gives her about everyone drifts away when you’re chronically ill, or worse, they label you as ‘exhausting’ or a problem.

And Teddy is my fucking nickname too. Been my nickname since I was born. (Until my father died and no one calls me teddy anymore.)

Watching Grey’s Anatomy should make me think about ‘what could have been’,

but instead I keep thinking about ‘what still could be’.

It’s not like I’m getting better anytime soon. I’m married to the medical industry and there is no other relationship more important (other than my relationship with Grampa Joe who makes this marriage possible by keeping a roof over my head and getting me insurance).

But then what? Whose going to care for me when I’m so broke I don’t have two pennies to rub together?

At the rate this lung infection is going I might not be around too long anyway. Dr. Sherman is right, I definitely aspirated when I vomited, but I think all the slug I’ve been coughing up might be some kind of weird pneumonia. And I can’t shake it.

What could be…I can’t help myself. I dream about it because it’s still possible. I imagine myself, being good, following all the rules…I tired to show him that once by not calling back. I guess he missed the message.

I think that’s why I was happier in Ottawa in some ways. There’s no possibility when I’m in Ottawa. He can’t be my doctor there.

But while I’m alive and still here it’s still possible.

But I think this lung problem is gonna fucking kill me anyway. How fucking poetic. Fucking poetic.