Ten years since 2016. And that realization tells me one thing, we need to talk about nine years ago for a hot minute.
Nine years ago, an acquaintance gave me an expiration date I did not appreciate. He told me with arrogance, I might add, that I would have one year to talk about my coma. After that, I’d need to drop it.
We answer to many names at times, nicknames, last names, pet names, names we love, and names we hate. I answer to names like Amanda, Sue, Mom, and Panda, but my favorite thing to answer to, besides “mom” of course, is Aunt ‘Manda. I love being an auntie. I think my favorite times lately have been to make memories with the little ones in our families. To take my nephews to an indoor water park in the dead of winter, felt epic at the time, all for the memories. Wave pools, arcade games, water slides and french fries, oh my. The laughter was worth it.
Now they say that Disney is the most magical place on earth. I’ve been a few times; Disney does not disappoint, but is it magical when you walk in alone? Is it a magical Main Street while solo? Is it still fun when watching out for numero uno? The answer surprised me. My sister had been planning a trip to Disney for over a year and I always told her, if I was able to tag on to her trip, somehow, I would. The memories of her kids’ faces brings me so much joy, it’s unexpectedly wonderful.
So I started poking around the internet. Started texting and inquiring about all pieces of this travel puzzle. I started investigating scenarios. Hotels. Flights. With Enzo and Tony. Without Tony. Without Enzo. What were the options? Airport parking. Do I have a suitcase after the great basement sewage flood of ‘24. What would be my food options per day? Which days were possible. And then, would this even work with Courtney’s schedule with her family.
My scares and triumphs over the last year 2024-2025
So here we are—March 2025—four years after my last post and nine years since the coma. Are you sick of my grief math? I’m sick of it too. Let’s throw it away! Be gone, grief—for now, anyway.
Let us call this post: From Death Bed Diagnosis to Flower Bed Revival: The Beginning of Being Type One Diabetic. HA! You didn’t expect me to say diabetic. Lol. You thought this was another coma blog. Ha! Tricked you. This is about my sugar, sugar.