Shooting fish oil and droppin' it like it's hot

I feel incredibly happy. Yes, I'm bitching about the -30 degree deep freeze we are currently experiencing and that stupid mayor from Toronto who is an embarrassment to all Canadians, but honestly, I just feel giddy with excitement - about nothing in particular - just life. I don't recall ever feeling this content with where I'm currently at - and I've spent so much time in the past 2 years worrying about my future that I really just want to take an opportunity to enjoy and reflect on this wonderful feeling. Perhaps it's the "honeymoon phase" of being a functional walker again? I'm not sure. But it's great. I have never laughed so much. I have never sang so much (particularly bad-ass Snoop from the 90's), and I have never danced so much (I drop it like it's hot at least 3 times a day. Why? Because I can. Boom).

I ran into Dr. M in the hallway at the hospital last week and he posed an excellent question: "Do you think that characteristics of the person who donated your cartilage were transplanted along to you with the cartilage?"

"YES!" I exclaimed, "That's it!"

All I know about my cartilage is that it came from a someone under 12 years of age.  I often think about that child and that family. They made a decision. Knowing their child would not recover, they made a decision to donate their child's organs and tissues to people in need across North America. Someone may have received that child's lungs. Someone may have received that child's kidneys. I received a very very small part of that child, yet that tiny part, in 6 months, has changed my life. It's humbling. I feel a great sense of responsibility to care for this gift. It's incredibly powerful and I am eternally grateful.

I can't prove that a piece of cartilage that now compromises about .000005% of my total mass (I totally made that number up) can really transplant elements from the donor's character, but I think it's a really cool premise. I imagine that the donor of my cartilage was exuberant - full of energy and joy. My donor was playful and delighted in the smallest of things. I'm sure of this because this is how I presently feel on a daily basis.

I'm not sure if the "transplant theory" holds true, but one thing that I can say for certain is that my "personal age" (the age that I feel) is now significantly less than my chronological age. For about 18 rough months, I felt like I imagined an unwell 90 year old woman would feel. When I looked in the mirror, I saw a haggard, sick, old woman. Presently; however, I look in the mirror and I see 23 year old Kirstie - lively, happy, and fun. I mean, I'm not like shotgunning beer and doing headstands on tables (Yes, I did THAT), but I DID take my fish oil shooter-style this morning and laughed my ass off when I slammed the bottle down afterward.

I don't know how long this feeling will last, but I'm soaking it up. So many of my blog posts documented the pain, fear, and anxiety that I was experiencing. I've come to realize that now is the time to document and celebrate each and every victory - no matter how trivial it might seem. So here it goes. Evidence of newfound youthful "personal age":

1) 90's music: I have become obsessed with the fabulous tunes of the 90's. Every morning, I wake up, select the "Singin' in the shower 90's edition" playlist on Songza and dance. George Michael tells me "I gotta have Faith," as I apply my eyeshadow, TLC warns me, "I don't want no scrubs," as I select my pants for the day, and Blackstreet sings, "I like the way you work it...no diggity," as I perform my daily squats with a cup of tea in hand. I look forward to my mornings now - the routine of getting ready for work has become one of the highlights of my day.

My lively morning routine; however, may be just a little too much for my quietly focused hubby. The other day, as I entered the kitchen with my laptop on my shoulder, boom-box style, I said to Ev (who was sitting at the table on his computer), "Hey Evs! Don't you just wanna get up and dance?"

"Nope."

"Never? Come on. Sometimes? Don't you ever just have an undeniable urge to get up and groove?"

"Never."

Well, Ok then. To each his own. Haha.

2) Silly Games: I find myself creating little personal contests for myself on a daily basis. Examples include: Catching the microwave at the :01 mark, filling the gas tank to the perfect dollar, and holding a plank for an entire commercial break. When I "win," I quietly celebrate with a fist pump and an overwhelming sense of accomplishment.

3) Cereal Obsession: Screw the unreal sugar content, I just really want a bowl of cereal! Breakfast, Supper - I don't discriminate. I recall this phase in University when I had no time to cook, no money (I had spent it all at the bar and hair salon) and consumed 3-4 bowls of cereal a day for approximately 2 years straight. Yummmm! Although I now have a steady income and the ability to purchase "real" food, lately, I've passed up the pork chops and shrimp scampi for a delightful bowl of cereal. It's even better when consumed in front of the television, whilst watching "The Flinstones." Why not?

4) Evan is hot stuff: I find myself "checking out" Ev more frequently. I mean, I've always been attracted to this guy - I fondly remember waiting outside the dressing room for Ev after games, and marvelling at how handsome he was when he emerged from the dressing room. It's pretty cool that after 17 years as a couple, I still find this guy smokin' hot. Seriously, have you seen this dude's body? He looks after himself..and he's mine. All mine. Bahahaha (evil laugh). To quote Salt-N-Pepa,  "You're packed and you're stacked, 'specially in the back brotha I wanna thank your motha for a butt like that." :)