Life throws a curveball

It's a beautiful spring day today, and it's a shame the boyfriend's stuck in a hospital bed, waiting to go under the knife.* He sounds incredibly upbeat, considering, and that's very attractive in itself. I like a man that can take adversity in stride, it's a sexy quality.

I'm at home, taking it easy. I really, really, really want to go into the hospital and see him, but he's on the other side of town, and the scooter ride today might not be the wisest choice, since I'm only now feeling human -- except for the voice. I have laryngitis and by proxy now sound like 40-year two-pack-a-day smoker with a death rattle and croak. Oh, sexy, I know. You want me.

But the laryngitis, strangely, is my body's way of healing. Whatever. If there's anything good about this sickness, it's the fact that it's shaved about 15 pounds off me, exactly all the weight I gained over the winter. I'm back to the size I was last August, after all my cycling and activity. Within a week or two, I'll be back on my bike and the weight will drop like the American dollar, man.

I'm disappointed the guy's got the bad break, and I feel really badly for him. I'm not in any sort of a "woe is me, why do I have to have an injured guy?" self-pitying mode, not at all. I'm not that selfish. I just feel badly for him. He was all blissed out about things, and has been diligently working at losing weight and being active, and I know how frustrating it can be to get injured when you're shaving off the pounds. It can be a big roadblock. Naturally, I tried to put a positive spin on it, that using the crutches can result in getting nice, strong arms, and big, brawny shoulders, which his body is predisposed to gaining, so I think I might get myself a nice sexy bruiser out of it, but who knows.

Like I said, he's positive, which is great. And I'll be supportive, and patient, and I'll dote on him throughout the recovery period, so when he's finally well, I think we'll have a great time.

I'll go visit him in the morning, hopefully before the weather turns bad, and make sure his spirits are up. Ah, well, it's funny how life goes, but maybe this'll be one of those things that makes you get close in an awful hurry, and that's not such a bad thing.

*(Oops: I should explain. Dude slipped, fell, and busted his tibia in not one, not two, but three places just above the ankle. Sadly, Krazee Glue won't do the trick. Nope. He's thorough: Boy needed surgery -- a plate and seven screws. Nice, huh? What some guys'll do to get attention, I tell ya. Well, he didn't need ta, he had it. Goof!)