I messed up

Got myself in a little hot water this weekend.

With all that has been going on in my life and all of the changes that I've been going through, I've managed to overlook something important.

Like, my anniversary.

And not just any anniversary, either —I overlooked my first anniversary, and that establishes a rotten precedent for all that will follow.

Yep, it was one year ago yesterday that I checked into Kaiser's Los Angeles Medical Center and got hitched to my G-tube.

Or maybe the G-tube got hitched to me. Whatever. I slept through the whole ceremony. My point is getting hooked up to my G-tube was a pretty big event and I'm a cad to not acknowledge it yesterday.

So right now my G-tube is giving me the silent treatment. During our three meals together on Saturday and all during breakfast this morning —not a word.

The funny thing is, I didn't really expect my G-tube and I to last this long together.

We are so different from one another. I'm made of flesh; my G-tube is made of rubber and plastic. I like a little variety in my diet; but all my G-tube allows me to put inside of it is Isosource and my medicine. And I like to think of myself as being somewhat outgoing, but all my G-tube ever wants to do is hang around.

So it's something of a surprise that we made it this far together without going separate ways. And believe me, I have been tempted at times to grab a pair of scissors and call off our relationship.

The reality is, however, as much of a nuisance my G-tube is, without it I'd be a goner. I've poured about 995 cans of Isosource down my G-tube's hatch over the past 365 days, and if I didn't have that option, I'd have starved to death long ago.

And it doesn't look like I'm going to be able to feed myself through my mouth again anytime soon, so I better do everything I can to stay on my G-tube's good side.