Panorama of San Bernardino

Wednesday, October 30, 2019

It’s know it’s not over

This evening, I had leg cramps again. They started in my ankles. Then the cramps moved to my calves. I started panicking. My hand went numb. My shoulder ached. What if I was having a stroke?

I took an aspirin and went downstairs. Ate a banana.

I thought about my recent panic attack driving in the carpool lane of the 134 freeway. We were on our way to the Morrissey show at the Hollywood Bowl on Saturday night. How at that moment, driving 75 miles per hour in the carpool lane, I felt as if I could die. That my car would ram into the wall of the freeway, killing me and my husband in an instant.

My hands were so wet and slippery on the steering wheel that I could barely hold on. Tears were in my eyes. I was gnashing my teeth and hyperventilating. Adrian, who was sleeping in the passenger seat, woke up to my whimpering and gently guided me out of the lane and to safety. Later, I laughed and sang the lyrics to a Smiths’ song to Adrian, “And if a double decker bus crashes into us, to die by your side, is such a heavenly way to die.”

My greatest fear is not of dying, but of not accomplishing the publication of my book before I die. Don’t misunderstand me, I love life. My life is beautiful in many ways. But what I want and need most is to have my voice be out in the universe. More than anything, I want my words and my stories to be remembered.


Saturday, October 19, 2019

Here comes your man

The pain is blinding.  Hemorrhoids suck. It feels like pieces of glass are stuck in my asshole.

I try and breathe my way through it, then give up. I run upstairs wincing with every step. Chewie is running behind me, his tongue hanging out. I walk into my bedroom and rummage around in my nightstand. I find my pen and take a hit. It tastes like skittles. I blow the smoke out then rub CBD cream on my back.

I lay down in my bed and breathe. I practice my meditation imagining a white light. Chewie whines and then barks to get on the bed. I lift him up and stare into his light brown eyes, they’re the color of candy caramels. He licks my face. I kiss his nose.

I shout into the air, “Hey Google, play Pixies!”

Google says back, “Sure, playing Pixies on Pandora.”

I imagine I’m in an ocean swimming, the waves lapping my pain away. My ass is throbbing, but the hemorrhoid pain is lessening from a ten to a more manageable five. It goes to an even duller ache and I start singing along, “There is a wait so long, so long so long, You’ll never wait so long. Here comes your man.”

Singing always makes me happy. I hear the door downstairs open. Adrian is home. Frodo starts barking. A tear rubs down my face, residue from the pain I was in.

I smile. Throwing off my house dress, I pull on a Replacements t-shirt and some leopard print shorts and wash my face. I smile at my reflection willing myself to smile and act happy. No one loves a negative Nancy.

The pain is gone and suddenly I’m laughing. I’m relieved and euphoric, as if I’m drugged. But, I’m not high. Instead, it is the absence of pain that makes me joyful.

I go downstairs.