A Perfect Ending
There seems to be some sort of internal threshold that I’ve crossed. It feels as though I have passed a milestone in my recovery that has allowed me to feel next to normal. Not to pile on the metaphors, but it’s as though a switch were flipped and from here on out I’ll be gauging […]
There seems to be some sort of internal threshold that I’ve crossed. It feels as though I have passed a milestone in my recovery that has allowed me to feel next to normal. Not to pile on the metaphors, but it’s as though a switch were flipped and from here on out I’ll be gauging wellness by how I feel now, as opposed to when I was sickly.
Hopefully.
Hopefully now isn’t an aberration. Hopefully the Pacific Northwest didn’t hold a magical elixir of rain and beauty which combined to make me feel better. I don’t fancy moving out there for good, although they had amazing coffee drinks.
I almost feel antsy now. I want things to progress rapidly, both in my professional life as well as my health. Specifically, I want to stop taking all these pills, quit giving myself shots in the belly, cease taking nap after nap and yes, grow a heck of a lot more hair than I’ve already managed to push out my scalp. All those things will happen in due time. I shouldn’t be greedy now that I’ve accomplished — at least for now — my near normalcy goal.
And lest you think all is perfect, I’ll offer up this one tiny example of how I’m not exactly back to perfection.
My fingernails, mouth and eyes still are giving me fits. The doctors have me on pills for that too.
When we were in the Portland airport waiting for the red eye to board, I took one last, quick potty stop. Walking into the abandoned bathroom, I quickly sought out a stall and did my business. If you’re a dude reading this, you understand that it’s not mandatory that you close your toilet stall if you’re just peeing. I heard a guy with dress shoes stomping in. He stopped right behind my stall, then strode back out.
“Hmm, that’s odd, oh well,” were my thoughts in that order.
I finished up, washed my hands, noted the lack of any urinals and exited the Women’s room.
Standing outside with her back to me, was the “guy” who’d invaded my session. At least I wouldn’t … oh God no … yes, I had to sit right behind her on the plane.
I think Marci was wondering why I was speaking so loudly about my vision being so blurry as we sat down.
In my life, normal and crazy abnormal have fought each other for years anyway.
