Thursday, April 2, 2015

I promise I'm not trying the old "death" ruse to bring us closer

We were lying in bed in our separate houses texting when he sent a selfie. "Here," he said. "Now you can feel like I'm right there with you."

The protocol, when your beloved offers some part of themselves, is to reciprocate.

I gazed at his sweet face and warm eyes, and then over at the mirror across from where I sat and saw a blurry, wild-haired mess hunched over a box of tissues.

There are precisely zero angles at which you can photograph yourself, seconds after sniffling into a snot rag, and look hot. I made 20 attempts anyway and even tried to pimp one up in a photo editing app, but while red eye filters are common, there are none for "red nose."

There really are not.

So I gave up and sent him one au natural. Somehow he made me feel loved anyway. "You're so beautiful to me," he replied and I nearly purred. (Thank god love is blind!)

It's been a rough past few days. Somehow I threw out my neck and, after 15 (intermittent) minutes of sleep out of an 8-hour night, I ended up in urgent care. (Again!) My sweetie drove while I stiffly practiced going into rigor mortis in the passenger seat. I wouldn't want to die unprepared, after all.

Four hours later I exited the pharmacy clutching muscle relaxants (which I loathe because I actually enjoy having a personality) and painkillers. Normally I'd resist even taking a Flintstone vitamin but I would have happily thrown myself onto a syringe of morphine if it meant I could move again. I gulped them down and waited.

What better to do while waiting than cook myself in a nice hot shower? I stepped into the steamy stall and let the water beat down on my neck, enveloping me in scalding bliss.

Never run out of hot water again!
Then I stepped out and... you know that sensation you get when life is leaving your body? That started to happen while I was drying my hair.

I waited for it to go away but it parked itself and set up camp. So I stumbled into the kitchen and, with the remaining vestiges of consciousness that were left, remembered a scene in the movie Steel Magnolias where Julia Roberts was going into hypoglycemic shock. She was shaking, I was shaking. She was sweating, I was sweating. She was fading, I was fading. But then she drank OJ and got better so... I drank OJ. It worked!
Hypoglycemic shock is a medical emergency.
I tossed the painkillers. They almost killed me, fuck no I'm not taking them! My route to becoming a loser laid up with a "bad neck" now thwarted, I had to rebuild the vision for my future: I had no choice but to return to being a productive member of society.

I contemplated what happened, since that was the closest I'd ever come to passing out. Maybe percocet (Oxycontin) affects blood sugar? Maybe it was an allergic reaction? Or maybe just a coincidence? I still don't know exactly what happened. But there I was, feeling vulnerable and needy, especially now that I'd leaned on him TWICE for weird health stuff (can't I just get a cold and need him to pick up some soup, like normal people?!?) and I'd been sniffling into a box of tissues, worried that Amazing Boyfriend would shake his head and leave this hot mess behind, when instead he reached out so tenderly. And I fell more in love.

1 comment:

  1. The pertinent question here is: Before you hopped in that shower, when was the last time you'd actually eaten? It sounds like it would have been quite a while earlier... plus all the stress... perfect recipe (even without any painkillers) for having no sugar in your blood to transport energy around.

    "Funny" story: I remember when something similar happened to me in college. Crawled out of bed, hopped into the shower, things started getting all sorts of wavy and spotty and shaky. Got back to my room had no choice but to sit down on the bed and wonder what the heck was going on. Then it occurred to me I hadn't had anything to eat in nearly 24 hours. A quick dive into a tin of cookies my family had sent and things got back to normal. (At least long enough for me to make my way to real food...)

    But, yeah... stop falling apart. It's not likely to make him give up on you at this point, but not having all these things go on would be a whole lot less stressful for you. ;)