Don’t gamble something you’re not willing to lose.

Dear Diary,

Boy. I did not expect the responses to my last entry. Most of the time when I sit down to write them I just write, barely thinking about what I’m putting out there, just kind of letting my fingers do the talking. It seems more authentic that way. I then run it through a quick grammar check (Grammarly) and let it fly. After about a day or so, many of you message me in one way or another and let me know what you thought, and I love that; it helps me feel connected to you and oftentimes provides an insight that I never would have otherwise. It’s the reward for taking the time to record and share my thoughts.

Until you motherfuckers turn against me. 😄

Not long after I posted my last entry, my inbox exploded. Most of you were telling me how stupid I was being, linking to article after article and telling me some of your own personal stories dealing with heart issues, and because of that, I was forced to stop and think: was I being stupid? Was I basically gambling with my health? Someone close to me once said something I hold near to my heart, something I remind myself of on a near-daily basis:

 

“Don’t gamble something you’re not willing to lose.”

 

Sometimes it’s easy to forget that. Life can get so engrossing that it’s easy to brush things to the side and focus on the more fun, attention-snatching elements. Especially, in my case at least, people. Ever heard the expression about the shoemaker who didn’t have any shoes? That is me to a T. I concern myself with other people’s problems so much that I often neglect my own. It’s natural to me; once you’ve fought past the obstacle course and made it into my heart, I do everything in my power to make sure you are as happy and healthy as you can be. I often write that I like who I am, that I love being me, and while true… that doesn’t mean I don’t see room for improvement. My health is definitely one of those areas.

So.

I went to the doctor. Again. Instead of describing exactly what happened, I’ll just plop in a message I sent to a friend:

 

I’m pissed. Today was a big waste of time – time that I could have been playing Skyrim. I left early as hell, got seen almost immediately, then had several tests ran on me. My body apparently picked today to be in perfect condition, because the preliminary exams looked good. They’re going to run tests on my blood, look at x-rays, and evaluate CT scans further and let me know what they came up with. Heart still enlarged; they just have no idea why. Yet. So I’m home.

They did say if I had any chest pains to return and they would likely admit me. So I’m about to shower, make myself some tea, and binge-watch some Walking Dead on Netflix.

 

I feel like everything was kind of rushed. I thought about this for a while and finally decided it is time I go back to the hospital, a different one this time, and see what they can do about my enlarged heart. I’m going to get the bulk of my baby squirrel’s appointments out of the way (all Cancer related), get our second microchipping (COVID shot) as soon as a slot opens up, and then my ass is going to the hospital. Maybe sooner depending on how I feel, I dunno. I will, of course, keep all of you updated because I have a habit of oversharing online. Hey, I’m a writer; I make no apologies for this.

About writing…

Man, do I have so many projects! I’m turning The Siren’s Song into a trilogy of books, each based on a different mythological creature, all interrelated, each keeping the same erotic romance tone. Right now, I’m only in the drafting stages, but it’s been a lot of fun so far. My primary project, and what I spend the bulk of my time on, is Camgirl, and the research on this is, well, interesting. Seeing the industry from a camgirls perspective is fascinating. I even plan to take part in a few camming sessions just for the experience. I like to have a true understanding of what I write about, and as I’ve never watched a camming session (just like I’ve never been in a strip club), it’s something that’s always interested me. So this should be fun.

If you are interested in learning about camming, I found an excellent documentary that I shared with my Patreon and Subscribestar Alexaliens a while back called Cam Girlz. You might want to check it out. There is a bunch of nudity and kinkiness, so make sure you’re not, like, at church or something when you attempt to watch it.

And let me know what you think. I always like knowing what you think. Even if you occasionally turn against me. 😏

#Alexaliens

 

“The fact is I am not having sex. But I feel absolutely ripe for the, what would you say? Plucking?”

– Angelina Jolie

 

Disclosure: This post may contain affiliate links that earn me a small commission, at no additional cost to you. This is because I’m a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to amazon.com.

Real Life, am I right?

Dear Diary,

If you really know me, you know I have a barely existent immune system. I mean, it’s there, but sometimes it decides to go MIA for days on end. Probably out running the streets getting in trouble like I used to do when I was younger (i.e., pre-COVID). Anyway, yeah, I get sick easily, and when I get sick, I tend to stay sick forever. How I survived my first COVID shot with no symptoms is beyond me. I mean, if you were to look at my body, you would never guess, but inside this body… a whole other tale is being told.

Why am I writing all this?

Well.

For the past few months, I’ve been feeling a rattling mucus type of thing in my chest, primarily when I lay down, and it’s only getting worse. I’ve been coughing, hacking, and having difficulty sleeping because of it, and my breathing sounds like Darth Vader doing a mic check. I tried putting it off, hoping it would get better, but it, of course, didn’t. So I finally broke and went to the hospital a few days ago.

They placed an IV in my arm, took five shots vials of blood, did a barrage of tests with that blood, put me in a big scary looking machine for a CT scan, nearly killed me when I kept telling them I had to pee, which forced them to unhook me, and after all this… the doctor said they had no clue. He did say I have an enlarged heart, but he ruled out congestive heart failure (which was a relief, as the survival rate of that is 50% for five years).

So I waited. They ran more tests. Ruled more things out.

Many, many hours later, another doctor approached me and said she wanted to admit me, and in the morning she was putting me on a treadmill and if I passed that, she would send me home. There was an awkward silence as I looked at her like she was three kinds of stupid. I exercise every day except Sunday. Hard. I know I can do a fucking treadmill. Sleeping. It wasn’t going to show anything. I nicely explained this to her, and she gave me one of those strained smiles you give a child asking where babies come from. She explained that it was a basic stress test, but I didn’t understand why I had to spend the night just doing something like that, so I asked her if I could possibly do it today. For some reason, she looked at me like I was stupid, like why wouldn’t she want to spend the night in a hospital?! or something.

So went into full loli-diva mode and left against medical advice.

A stupid decision in hindsight, I know, because doctors are, you know, doctors. I am feeling better in my defense, but still, my body acting like that is a surefire sign that something is wrong. I know I need to go back. I don’t want to, because in a way I’m scared to learn what it might be, but…

Real Life, am I right?

Anyway, my writing life is going way better than my health. As I stated in my newsletter, I have a set release schedule of books, and everything is written up to 2024, so I’m able to take on these little side projects that I’ve wanted to tackle – things like pen name books, VIP tiered Patreon and Subscribestar.adult requests, and spider monkeying the hell out of my big brother. These are all important things, yo. My big brother gets moody and unbalanced if I don’t regularly spider monkey him.

Sigh. Back to work.

Stay freaky.

Or die trying. 😏

#Alexaliens

 

💡 The More You Know 💡

Some sexual dysfunctions can stem from how you feel about the appearance of your genitals.

Love your body.

All of it.

 

Disclosure: This post may contain affiliate links that earn me a small commission, at no additional cost to you. This is because I’m a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to amazon.com.