Recovery on the Big Red Couch

On Friday, I had my gall bladder removed.
I have a few gallstones to prove it but I won't gross anyone out with pictures although there are a few that have gotten pics sent to their phones.  Jeanie was totally freaked out by the whole hospital scene and didn't want to see my cuts and bruises so it's funny that Cousin David picked up a nurse costume today.  I've spent most of my recovery time playing farkle and picking out a Halloween costume.  Jeanie thinks we should match but forget it.  That's too hard.  I found a really great naughty cop costume.  It's too much to resist.
I love Halloween.  It's my favorite holiday; always has been. I think for the rest of the month I'll blog about some of my favorite Halloweens and spooky experiences. 
Since I'm a B- in health, I'll go back to work tomorrow.  Not because I want to.  I have to.  I want to pay off the debts and kick back money.  My heart is still set on starting fresh in Virginia.  I miss the boys way too much and I'm just spinning silly circles at my job.  I've carved out a notch for myself but what good is it?  I'm always one pay check from broke and the benefits?
My insurance sucks.  How can I live in the wealthiest country in the world and find myself in a sales pitch over getting my gall bladder out?  What they didn't expect from your girl was a water work spectacle that would have put anyone down for the count.  I'm strong but I'm not afraid to pretend to be vulnerable to get things in motion.  They wanted 500.  They settled with 200 and a promise to make payments. The hospital can expect a spotchy check every month until they are paid off.  They pissed me off when some gal named Nadine called and said that while they are a non-profit hospital and I qualified for 90% off, I should bring in a check the day of my surgery to show them I was a good person.  I asked her why didn't I just bring in a kidney.
I'm a bottom feeder and that makes no sense to me.  I don't feel like one.  I get pissed and act like Rusty Dennis but I don't particularly act like one.  I'm kind and warm and passionate and yet-not quite getting where I want to be and that's where I am.  I'm tired of surviving.  I want to thrive and prosper and live to 100.  I want to leave a mark and for someone to remember me 500 years after I'm gone.  I've always felt that I had a grand purpose and maybe everyone thinks that but I'd like to prove myself right. 
It takes courage.
I'm not scared anymore.