Topics: holidays, chronic illness, COVID, pop culture

It’s documented that I don’t like endings. Not my thing. As such, even something as relatively jazzy as NYE is meh in my world. Sure, I (usually) stay up until midnight, and I will never take for granted I am one of those blessed people who has someone to kiss. But the concept of “out with the old, in with the new” isn’t a Buzzfeed list I subscribe to.

That being said, there are a few things that happen every end-of-year. One of those things is our annual Fancy Night with our friends. We have a habit of going out with two separate sets of friends sometime in December or January to have our Annual Review. The four of us have a series of questions we ask each other and then we each give our answers.

The tradition started with both friend groups over fifteen years ago. Back then we were all relative newlyweds and newly or nearly graduated twenty-somethings. The restaurants have changed. The budget has changed. The concept of “fancy” has changed. But the questions have not. There is an expectation of a dapper outfit, good food, and emotionally-revealing sharing. It isn’t just dinner, it’s dinner and commentary. What was your best thing of the year? Worst thing of the year? What are you most looking forward to for the new year?

The tradition, being a decade and a half old, no longer needs prying. We all know its coming; we’ve all thought through our answers. 

I am not looking forward to answering these questions this year. I’ve thought through my answers, and how is one supposed to choose between peeing and Eras Tour? That’s just mean. 

But the worst is actually very easy for me. It’s a part of the puzzle that didn’t get published. The part of the story that nearly defined 2023. The near-miss that could’ve changed everything.

Guys, I almost failed the clinical trial. 

That happened. That is part of the story. It almost didn’t work. Through no fault of anyone except Bladdy’s, my body almost didn’t respond to the Interstim therapy. Bladdy has a rare set of neurological problems that needed a very specific setting for it to work. The setting is rather uncommon and therefore is the last tested program during the trial. I’m that person—the luckiest of the unluckiest people. The last 10%, so to speak. I need a fucking battery implant to pee, but at least there is a battery implant that can help me pee. 

Not that anyone asked, but you don’t just “start” peeing. After not being able to for over two years, I have had to essentially potty train. I have to retrain my brain to figure out how to recognize when I have to pee.

The first signal that I recognized is irritability. If I’m bothered, when two minutes ago I was unbothered, I might have to pee. Fun game. (This is only true if the Lions aren’t or haven’t played football in the past forty-eight hours. Right now I’m irritable AF and it has nothing to do with Bladdy.)

But here’s the thing, like any long-term goal or big life change, my body doesn’t run on an annual calendar. Today I don’t magically have a new bladder. I won’t always understand the signals. I won’t instantly live a normal life.

Because that’s just not how life works. 

This year, half my family had COVID over Christmas. Two parties got canceled, one happened via FaceTime. Also, remember the aforementioned Fancy Nights? One of those got rescheduled because of sickness. The other we haven’t scheduled yet. It might be in Fancy February. Who knows? Who cares?

That’s actually the beauty of it—nobody cares. The group wants to get together, we want to ask these questions, we want to hear each other’s stories, but we know that worsts, bests, and most anticipated moments don’t happen perfectly on cue. Some years there just flat out wasn’t a best (looking at you, 2019). Some years, there are three bests. Some years, Fancy Night happens in June. It doesn’t matter, what matters is the habit, tradition, and effort of looking forward.

On New Years Eve I played Mario Kart on Hunter’s Nintendo Switch with friends after their three children were in bed. We had mimosas instead of Champagne, and Brett made himself a steak while I ate hummus and leftover Christmas cookies. (Yes, this is the glamorous child-free, DINK life. Be jealous.)

If NYE is your Fancy Night with friends, and you love it, please post photos of your great outfits and exciting night. You only live once, savor the memory of that great experience.

If you love resolutions and fresh starts, that’s awesome! I hope you have a fabulous time with all of that.

If today is just the last day of a long weekend, that’s great too. I’ll be here, at home, figuring out if it’s NFL-induced crabbiness, or if Bladdy is telling me something. Because I’m still trying to figure out how my year is supposed to go. 

Good thing I have at least 365 days to think about it.

~ Tricia

T’s Top Three Most Anticipated Moments for 2024

• Logan & Liz’s wedding

• Reputation Taylor’s Version

• Book deal, Tricia’s Version (manifesting my dreams and shit)