Friday, February 3, 2012
I know life isn’t fair – but this really isn’t fair! Two days ago, after getting through two weeks of this, I thought it had smoothed out and I would sail through to July 3. Incorrigible optimist.
I worked steadily Thursday, transcribing Joyce’s charts for my ancestors. I finished reading “Bird by Bird” (inspirational writing book that’s given me good ideas). It was a rocky day – low energy, headache – but I was engrossed in my work and just kept at it, resting occasionally. The weirdness escalated when I walked to the post office in the early afternoon. I was dizzy in Nob Hill Grocery again (blueberries and milk). I explained my dilemma to the druggist in CVS next door, and asked if he could recommend anything over the counter. No, he had nothing that would work and I should contact my doctor for a prescription. I knew that wasn’t going to happen – not yet anyway.
I was happy to crash on the couch for a while when I got back, resumed my work, and finally sat down to watch the last boring episode of DNA on Netflix around 9 p.m., in bed at 11. Congratulated myself on being productive in spite of the ‘drugs vs virus war’ I have going on; hoped Friday would be better.
I had a terrible dream during the night. I was shopping in this upscale clothing store, run by a very glitzy lady. An elderly gentleman seemed to be browsing and tentatively held up this elegant dress on a hanger to show me. I assured him it was a great dress (but who was it for?) when he abruptly put it back on the rack and walked out – not a word spoken. I took my choices into the dressing room, where all the dressing rooms had toilets overflowing with SHIT! I was appalled and kept going from one to the other, finally sitting down to pee, perched on a tiny corner of the disgusting toilet. Some women that came in immediately fled. I wondered what was going on. Then I woke up, splitting headache, still wondering what was going on. What would Freud say?
Today, Friday, I worked intermittently on my book, took the shortest walk ever, ate too much—hoping food would help—rested more than usual, sat in the sun. I sorted through binders of research and documents saved for nearly 10 years, happy to finally know how to use them. I’m creating lives for my ancestors and as things are falling into place I’m very excited about the connections I’m making and the stories that are beginning to form in my head, ready to burst onto pages. I’m really looking forward to sharing all of this with my siblings.
I crashed about 8 p.m. and I dialed my brother Bob in Portland; he wasn’t in and I left this pathetic teary message, “Had a bad day, just wanted to chat a little.” I thought about calling other friends: Heidi, Julia, Jane, Lois, Sally. Can’t call Donna; she’s in Mexico. Kathy’s in bed.
I didn’t want to call any of them, for a variety of reasons, all of which make no sense at all – I should give them a chance! It would be good for both of us but I just couldn’t do it.
I sat down and made myself cry because I realized I was again holding things in, sucking it up, keeping a brave face on a difficult situation. For who? It felt good to cry—I kept it up until it really sounded forced, after about one minute. I felt better physically and emotionally.
My head still hurts, I’m still tired, but it’s okay. I have my eye on the prize of health. Maybe I just need to schedule the occasional breakdown as part of my medical protocol. You know, pills at 7, 3, and 11; shot at 8:30 on Tuesday; breakdown at 8 on Friday.
I emailed my friend Alex who is driving over from Carmel to have lunch with me tomorrow and told him I’d let him know by 10 a.m. if I’d be up for company.
I got up, did the dishes, felt better all around. Bob called, concerned, and said he had a really bad day too so must be something in the atmosphere – or the stars. Yes, that’s it! Often happens that way.
I emailed GoAskJack.com where I get supplements for liver health to inquire if he has anything for the Hep C treatment side effects. He’s resourceful so I expect to trot over there tomorrow for that magic pill we’ve all grown to expect.
Alex’s reply: “Okay – if you’re not your sweet wonderful self – let me know – FYI, I am an emotionally fragile man”
(thanks to my friends – I do know you’re there for me)