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.
Desperately.
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