flying through clouds of uncertainty on wings of existential dread
Sorry, y’all. I drew this really quickly yesterday in response to events, and then I worked really late and didn’t get a chance to scan and edit it properly. I’ll get to it this weekend, but I couldn’t not post it today because CCN (L’s mom) HAS A NEW KIDNEY! And his name may or may not be Norbert. W00t!
And while we’re on the topic, I imagine most of you are either already registered as organ donors or have an excellent medical reason that you can’t, but just in case — please register. It’s super easy.
My specific needle phobia, which is really a ‘things going into and under my skin’ phobia, makes the whole concept of surgery completely fucking terrifying to me. Add in the fact that I may or may not be more incredibly no shit absolutely terrified of dying (which I realize may seem odd for someone who was, at one point, on the edge of suicidal, but depression, she is a tricky bitch) than your average bear, and checking a box that said people could cut me up and hand out my bits if I’m effectively dead-ish became one of the scariest things I’ve ever done.
Still, I did it, because it’s the right thing to do, and because if that day did come, it’s not like I’d know what was happening anyway. My fears will not rule me to such an extent that I fail to help save other people’s lives.
‘I donate my fur to every surface in the house every day. I’m a giver.’ — Sir Charlie the Genoerous, lord of Sheddington