Tell Mama All About It

It's 9:54pm and there is a lump in my throat that I cannot swallow. My mascara is ruined and I am ugly crying. Why has this shit got to be so hard? She's right. I have so much cancer trauma that I can't even recognize. There is no one I have not reached out to that I can imagine speaking with. It's so much at the rawest, softest, gentlest, weakest parts of me. I am glad that my child is not home to see this. It's pure pain and fear and all of those things that make us animals. What a terrible, terrible day.

What a day. After bragging serially about my absolute absence of fear in regard to needles. I think the tech poked the needle all the way through my whole arm this morning. It hurt for hours and now the vein is all swollen and purple. That's weird. Can't say I like it. Whole vein is officially blown. Hurts like hell.

Then to the orthodontist to find out that the $6,000 mouth isn't wearing his rubber bands. The good news is that the bands are simply to make his teeth spaced correctly, so I simply appealed to his vanity and told him he's going to have picket fence teeth like me if he doesn't wear them.

Then off  to the real job without the intermission I really do need. Warmth. I hate admitting that I need anything I can't provide for myself. Lunch with our new teamer. I thought he would be the new weird one with his long mohawk and his knuckle tattoos and his West Coast way of breathing. I adore him. But he was totally thrown off because I was cold. It got a little weird when he asked where I was from and I said "About two hours thataway" as if he couldn't hear the cornbread.

Then I broke a script. But I'm the only one who can't make it work. Like, wtf, InDesign? I just need one thing to be less complicated at work. I love my job and my team and what I do. But come on, can I catch a break? Please? Officially still broke this morning. Don't ever say your script is broke?

I worked late. It was dark when I left. I put on my special glasses and called Mama on the way home. When you have a bad day, "tell Mama." I can't tell anyone what the weight is these days. But damn, it is there and it is heavy.

I got home to my empty house with my grocery delivery on the stoop. I put away the groceries, lit my new candle, and sat in the silence of the clean house. I have yet to turn on any music or the television. I'm happy in the quiet. I am lonely, but that will just make the company sweeter later. 

Then the call. Then the other call. By that time, I hadn't eaten and I was several glasses deep at that point. Don't say I didn't warn you. Up until midnight ugly crying. Woke up at 5am to thunder and cried some more. Got up and went for water, fighting that hangover I earned. I was up, so I just stayed up. I offered to take the boy to school because I'm pretty sure it's a tsunami out there. It took us half an hour to make it the few miles. Rain makes people kinda dumb. So much for getting to work extra-early to make up for the time I have to go be told that they have to cut me open to fix what's been wrong with me for two decades. Poetic.

I still optimistically packed a gym bag in the event that the doctor says I can work out. I'll just slip off to the basement with no cell service, my Spotify list, and the Concept2.

I have to say that my silver of the day is a good hair day, despite this weather. I have no idea. Witchcraft? Or maybe just the universe throwing me a bone with my saltine breakfast.

The script ran all night and never moved. My back hurts from nothing. I managed to do something awful to the right side of my jaw in my sleep over the weekend and it still hurts.

The blood test from yesterday still popped just a hair high. Probably going to have to stop taking the meds that keep my hair from falling out. So that's great. Kidney failure or baldness.

Okay, off to the ortho. I don't fear pain or anesthesia. I fear two weeks of not taking care of myself. Who the actual fuck is going to do that? We'll sort it. Maybe get me one of them cabana boys. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

We Traveled Nationwide, Til We Settled Here on the East Side

Image
I am not supposed to consider my sleep as a factor in not feeling well. I keep having to remind myself of that. I'm entering my fourth week of mild,  self-controlled sleep deprivation, prescribed and overseen by a sleep psychologist. I woke up this morning feeling like I have the flu. I've had a headache for two days, I'm nauseated, I feel woozy. I slept through my alarm this morning. That has not happened in over a decade. I feel like I got good and drunk last night and have had about four drinks total in the past week. When she told me that we're doing at least another week, I didn't cry. I haven't cried yet. I do have a giant lump in my throat because all I want to do right now is crawl back in bed after a cup of coffee and my ADHD medications. Good news is that we always talk in the morning, so I'll have plenty of time to get this particular thing out of my system before bedtime. She says that's important. So much of what our appointments include is ...
Read more

Don't Forget the Key's Under the Mat

Image
It’s been the same every year on this day. I never can believe that he’s as old as he is. It’s his last real milestone to adulthood. He’s 21 today. In fifteen minutes, to be exact. The only one I have and I always knew he’d be the only one. As much as I always loved him, it wasn’t fair to even try to love someone else that much. I just don’t think I could. He’s been my favorite person since the moment he started being his own person. My baby, my buddy, my biggest fan, my confidante, my partner in crime, my adventure accomplice, my concert companion, my ride-or-die, my travel copilot, my best friend. We talk almost every day. My heart hopes it will always be that way, but my mind knows that I shouldn’t expect him to live his life for me. He’s out on his own now. People have asked me if that hurts. It’s two things. I miss him. Lord, do I miss him. I didn’t bake him a cake for the first time in his life this year. That breaks my heart more than I can find words to tell. I bought the ingre...
Read more

Don't Chase That Carrot Til it Makes You Sick

Image
I can't remember the last time I sat down to write. It's not that I'm uninspired or that I have writer's block or whatever. I have not had time to sit without my usual guilt. I sit here now with "clean out bedroom drawers" written in ink pen on my palm like a '90s phone number. I miss this. The time sitting still, a Tropicalia at my right hand, two in. James McMurtry in my ears, wondering if in a few weeks, I should buy one ticket or two. My God, I'm happy. I guess the time has come to share the news. I'll be a proper Athenian in a week and sixteen hours. I never thought in a million years that I'd own anything. It makes way more sense than I ever thought it would. I always said that with Gabe grown, I'd do this. I'd buy a condo in a city somewhere that I could walk or bike or ride a bus anywhere I wanted to be. Nowhere up North. I get cold. Nowhere out of the country, I have a criminal record, you know. And that seriously limits my opt...
Read more