Happy World Cat Day!  It’s a momentous day here on this world we call Earth.  Cats everywhere are being celebrated all over social media channels.  Insta…. Twitter…. Facebook, you name it!  Photos and tributes are in abundance!  This is MAJOR, people!!!!!

No.  Really.  I have no idea if any of this is true — or if anyone is really all that excited about a day of global tributes to felines.  I’m actually celebrating World Cat Day today only because one of my co-workers suggested that my recent social posts were too work centric (Uh, hello, Ms. Co-Worker, please go read my last post.  I’m BIZZZZZEEEEE. And it’s all about WORK right now….Duh…. Leave me alone…)…  At any rate, this same co-worker also said to me today that she hadn’t really seen much of my cats lately (photos, etc.)– and what better day to change that than on WORLD CAT DAY?  First off, who the fuck knew that there was even such a thing as World Cat Day?  I surely didn’t until I checked Twitter and noticed that World Cat Day was TRENDING. And I’m a cat lady no less! Turns out, there’s a day for EVERYTHING.  As someone who works in communications, I am tempted to think that all of these days were created by people like me looking for a reason to promote their particular angle to the media.  Now that I’m thinking about it, there’s probably a Fuck the Psychopath who Fucked You Over Day… And certainly, there’s gotta be one for people who have survived brain explosions? Brain Explosion Awareness Day?  World Brain Bleed Day?  Brain Shunt Day?  Or simply, Brain Aneurysm Survivor Day?

As I gear up for the second anniversary of my own personal brain bleed, I have been thinking about all the shit I’ve been through these past two years.  Last night, I went back and read through some of the emails I sent back and forth with friends the days leading up to and on August 17, 2012. Some were normal…. some were me just ranting or raving about the new Dallas television show… One was to the IT person at work telling her that my blackberry was dying…. (Little did I know, my brain was about to try to die as well…).  Many were from Fucker (who unbeknownst to me, had been engaged to another woman for about a month.)  Then suddenly, it goes radio silent. This was when I was apparently spending one on one time with the Dyson in my sweaty hot apartment with the cats looking on at whatever was actually happening.  

On August 18th, I only received three emails– or at least that’s all that’s in my inbox now.  (Remember, my friends were texting me, not emailing.)  The first email was from Fresh Direct, the New York City online grocery delivery service. It was confirming my delivery for later that day.  The second was from Fresh Direct wondering where I was and why I wasn’t answering my door.  The third was from Fucker asking me how my day was.  He probably sent me that when Cris called him and told him he hadn’t heard from me.  But note, he did NOT come to rescue me.  Cris and the gang did.

On August 20th, the emails start pouring in again — “How are you?”  “My thoughts and prayers are with you.”  “Get well soon,” etc. etc.   I can clearly see how drugged I was. I complained a lot to my friends and family about how my head hurt, how much I didn’t want a shunt, how sweaty I was… how much I wanted wine.  Lots of it is garbled and doesn’t make much sense.  

After reading through what Fucker had to say to me during this time, he was nice and seemingly concerned, yes, but he really wasn’t all that amazing in hindsight.  He was often busy — always working — blah blah.  Yes, he did come to visit me numerous times in the hospital and afterwards (even a few days before and a few days after his wedding) — but really, I can see it wasn’t anything that major now that his psychopathic charm has worn off of me.  My friends and family were incredible though.  That is quite clear. Thank you.  Thank you. Thank you.

So yeah… two years is rounding the corner…..Soon.  Wow.