Being sick (still, by the way, maybe always) has sprouted some new worst-case-scenario neuroses in my brain. I'm secretly confident that a loved one will die right before the wedding, incurring the double tragedy of them not being at said wedding should the event proceed, and them being dead. Certain truths like this usually go unmentioned by me, because they beg the response from regular people "well you can't go worrying about all the things you can't control". To which I say, sounds like youuuuu don't have an anxiety disorder. But really, I say, Oh I know I'm so morbid ha ha.
I used to be sure that on September 23rd, 2011, Nick and I would have twin daggers of pain in our sides and get rushed to the OR for emergency appendectomies. Damn the appendix, the little worm-shaped time bomb, evolution's turd. What were we thinking trying to plan a wedding with one of those still grown to our guts? I learned recently that this happened to a friend of a friend - well, just one emergency appendectomy, but the week of the wedding. She soldiered through the day, sallow and doped on pain meds, barely able to remember or enjoy the day, a.k.a. my nightmare.
I can control so little, but to a certain extent, I can control my health. I minded my health in 2010 and I'm going to keep doing so this year. As soon as I can get my temperature down.