Captain’s Log: Elective Choices and Everyday Explosions
Captain’s Log, Stardate 2601.280825
This log captures the collision between past decisions and present-day chaos. Originally written after a surprisingly “not terrible” day (which somehow felt like a win), it documents both a flashback to my first elective procedure and the very real nonsense of modern adult life. Healing isn’t linear. Growth isn’t quiet. And sometimes the teapot literally explodes.
Another long, busy day—but honestly? It didn’t go as badly as usual. When “not awful” feels like a victory, you know you’ve recalibrated expectations.
So today’s entry is a blend: daily chaos and a return to the beginning of my elective procedures.
Because this is a medical journal, after all.
Elective Procedures, Round One: Liposuction Lessons
Back in 2011, my metabolism clocked out.
Years of being active collided with working at a BBQ restaurant, and suddenly I hit the 150s on the scale. At the time, it felt catastrophic. Looking back? Perspective changes everything.
My biggest fear growing up was inheriting my family’s body type. Add society’s beauty standards and frustration over stubborn fat, and when I saw a clinic advertising discounted liposuction, I made a decision quickly.
Too quickly.
Here’s what I learned:
Poor research.
The clinic looked polished and affordable. I didn’t dig deeper.
The upsell trap.
The more areas treated, the cheaper it became per area. I walked in for one. I signed up for abdomen, back, inner thighs, and chin. All financed.
The pain.
Local anesthesia was minimal. The numbing process involved a large needle pumping fluid while I was awake. The suction felt strange—but the injections were the worst part.
Recovery was brutal. Open drainage. Vomiting. Bandages that looked like something out of a horror film. My then-partner had to help with wound care—hardly glamorous.
Round two involved inner thighs and chin. My best friend (who passed in 2023—forever my ride-or-die) took me that time. She made it lighter, even when I looked ridiculous in compression gear.
But halfway through, the surgeon announced it was “training day” and let a trainee work on my left thigh.
That leg was uneven for years.
Yes, I should have pursued legal action.
Yes, the clinic later shut down.
Yes, that was only the first round of elective decisions.
Lessons were learned the hard way.
Morning Chaos: The Exploding Teapot
Fast forward to today.
I’ve been trying a new warm-water morning routine to help my stomach issues. I heated my glass teapot, reached for it—and the bottom shattered off.
Boiling water everywhere.
Not ideal.
Surprisingly, though, my stomach symptoms were slightly better this morning. Small win. If that trend continues, maybe I can reschedule the gastro appointment currently sitting on my birthday next month.
I cleaned up the mess, microwaved water instead, and settled into “The Cave.”
The Cave, Cats, and Clutter
The Cave is part office, part former gym.
Treadmill buried.
Rubber flooring.
Two giant windows that turn it into a sauna in summer.
Add eight cats, one pet gate, and a foam roller once destroyed by Hodor’s spite-spraying phase—and you’ve got controlled chaos.
He’s not allowed through the gate anymore, which still stings.
But eight cats plus rubber flooring requires boundaries.
Tech Glitches and Enrollment Chaos
Determined to be productive, I ordered additional memory for my PC—money I didn’t plan to spend but necessary before Open Enrollment.
My boyfriend built the system, thankfully, so diagnosing the issue was easy.
The carrier enrollment platform? Not so easy.
System crashes.
Two-factor verification failures.
Consent emails landing in spam.
Hours navigating “solutions” that solved nothing.
I processed one application. Then immediately dealt with a client who ignored months of outreach and suddenly needed urgent help.
Commission-only means time matters. Research matters. Follow-through matters.
I’ll guide you.
But I can’t chase you.
Healthcare Reality Check
I entered this industry for two reasons:
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To help people navigate a system designed to confuse them.
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To earn a living doing it.
The income side has steadily tightened over the years. The system feels reactive, volatile, and layered in red tape.
I’ve personally battled insurance companies for surgical approvals. I’ve seen how difficult it is for patients to get clarity.
And lately, new Special Election Period documentation requirements have ended the “easy enroll” days.
Translation: due diligence is back.
If someone wants help, they need to participate in the process. I’m not driving across town for a face-to-face meeting when Zoom and recorded calls accomplish the same thing.
Remote work isn’t laziness.
It’s efficiency.
Evening Reflection
I ended the day with a psychologist appointment—no tears, which counts as progress.
Then a 5 p.m. client call that reinforced the new compliance reality.
By the time I shut everything down, I realized something:
Despite exploding glassware, tech failures, industry instability, and flashbacks to questionable surgical decisions—
It wasn’t the worst day.
Growth doesn’t erase chaos.
It teaches you how to withstand it.
Final Thoughts
If you’re considering elective procedures, don’t let my experience scare you. Medicine has evolved. Standards have improved.
But research matters.
Ask questions.
Vet credentials.
Trust your gut.
And if your teapot explodes mid-morning?
Clean it up. Adjust. Keep going.
Between chronic health battles, industry upheaval, and eight cats, there’s never a dull moment.
The mission continues.
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