The ED is rampant today. With my birthday being this weekend and a huge bash at a local drive-in movie theater being planned by Texas, I’m feeling fat, ugly, and just….awful. I just want to not touch food until after Saturday night.
But I know I can’t do that and still keep this struggle a secret. I have so many social events over the next 4 days. And birthday dinners with various relatives.
I’m trying not to go crazy.
But it’s hard.
I just wish I had someone to be my rock, my raft, my life vest.
Well. I wish my father would. That he could even consider it.
I don’t understand why I try so hard to be a Daddy’ Girl, even though I know it will never happen. But I always try.
I don’t have much to say today, so instead I leave you with a sprinkling of pictures from the puppies’ adventure outside this past weekend.
The strange looking little pointy-eared terrier mix in the background of this one is my mother’s older dog Tippy. She was very good with the puppies.
Zoe did not give two shits about my mother’s two older dogs (the other is camera shy). I thought it was a nice safe introduction to non-family dogs for the puppies.
They’re doing very well lately. Personalities are starting to finally emerge.
Also, a note, there was a miscount initially. They are all boys except for a single lone female. She’s the smallest brindle/brown one.
His hands are warm and dry, the grip firm as he tugs me over to his side of the couch. I easily nestle against his chest. The movie is terrible, but I feel like I could just drift off like this.
His hands ghost across my back, before slipping under my shirt and rubbing along my spine and shoulders.
“You seem tense along here.” He murmurs into my hair.
“Yeah. New meds have this weird stiffness side effect.” I reply. He kisses the top of my head.
“Is the BP better at least?” His tone is hopeful
“A bit. Starting to creep back up. But not anything dangerous yet.”
I smooth my cheek over his chest, seeking out the spot where I can hear his heartbeat. My eyes drift close as I focus on the soothing rhythm.
“Are you even watching the movie?” A teasing tone this time.
“Not really. It’s pretty bad. I can’t even understand who we’re supposed to sympathize with- Jesse James or Robert Ford.” He chuckles in agreement and the warm sound of it vibrates against my ear.
When I get up to turn off the TV so we can leave, his arms catch around my waist and he tugs me back into his lap.
“Nope. Stay.” He insists, nuzzling the spot where my shoulder meets my neck. A smile tugs at my face. It’s been awhile since such simple actions push through the cobwebs of my heart and soul. I feel something bubble slightly. Some emotion I haven’t felt an awhile.
It’s later when we’re lying together, a good portion of my limbs draped over him that he gives me that sideways grin I love so much and reaches out to run his fingers along my side.
“I’m glad you’re here. I like just being like this.” He says softly. My eyelids flutter. He starts to say something else, but stops himself, deciding instead to press his lips against my forehead and eyelids multiple times. Lightly, as if painting what he won’t say against my skin. I resist the urge to chew my lip nervously.
When he walks me to my car, he promises (as much as he can) that he will get off work for my birthday. With his dog’s face firmly pressed against my hip, one of my hands gently rubbing her ears in that way she adores, he kisses me one last time.
I tuck the whole night away in my mind to flip through and review for the next time it takes weeks to arrange for us to spend time together.
I’m so very tired of being hospitalized every couple weeks.
This is ridiculous.
I was just released late yesterday from my fifth ER visit in less than three years.
All related to this ridiculous hypertension that does not respond to treatment.
I had a coworker drive me from work on Tuesday because I was having chest pain and my BP was 204/167. The ER admitted immediately and did a good job to quickly rule out a heart attack or stroke.
From there, they played with the idea of a clot for awhile (blood screening showed that possibility). But when my contrast CT scan showed nada, they sort of gave up.
Technically they admitted me onto the floor for overnight observation, but that was only to give me a couple doses of IV blood pressure meds to bring down my points. It did help. The IV meds always do. But I can’t take those at home. The doctors ran a bunch of tests. I was prodded, poked, pricked, etc. I was very very disassociated pretty much the whole time.
A flicker happened when Army actually came and visited me. We’d actually been a bit in contact via text because I just instinctively contacted him when I didn’t know how to respond to strange chest pain (I’m an idiot, I acknowledge that).
He’s never visited me in the hospital. He stayed for a couple hours and despite sassing the nurse, it was nice. He tried to take over for a guy who was running an EKG because he saw me immediately withdraw and disassociate when the EKG guy lifted up my hospital gown to attach the leads. If I’d spoken up, they would have let him (he was wearing his EMT uniform), but I was too far gone by that time.
I don’t remember a lot of it. There was a lot of pain, nausea, and dizziness.
My father didn’t even bother visiting me. Then he was offended when I didn’t call him first when I got my discharge paperwork.
But the doctors are still stymied. Well. Not stymied. Apathetic.
Doctors: We think you perhaps just have crazy high blood pressure.
To which I (well, Charlotte) responded with annoyance: So you’ve seen other similar cases of a female in her mid-twenties who does not smoke, take birth control, regularly exercises, has a normal BMI index, no family history of high blood pressure or heart disease, doesn’t eat fast food, is relatively good about taking her medications, be hospitalize multiple times a year for extreme hypertension crisis or related matters?
Doctors: Uhh…well…no. But sometimes there just isn’t an underlying cause.
That’s why I’ve been quiet. I’m discharged as of yesterday. Feeling shitty still.
Sometimes I wonder if maybe I just wasn’t meant to live. My body seems to be telling me that.
Yesterday my coworker/friend (Hannah) convinced me to be her workout buddy.
This is apparently a real thing in normal women-women friendships. I’ve never done such a thing before.
But I like Hannah and I like the idea of working out. Endorphins, right? Not to mention weight loss! Hurrah!
We went to the gym she has a membership to yesterday after work. She’s allowed to bring a guest for free (the third reason for me going- it’s free!).
The only gyms I’ve gone to before have been either an apartment complex’s, or the one my father has.
I’ve never been to a mega-center where they have just rows upon rows of various machines.
Hannah was nice enough to show me to the area of the women’s locker room that had private lockable rooms to change in, instead of the big open area (which a lot of women were doing -shudder-). I still felt awkward because they have the private rooms buried in the back, probably to discourage people from using them.
I also was one of only like, two women wearing sweats that went all the way to my ankles (as opposed to capris or shorts). And I was certainly the only woman under 150 lbs that was wearing full length pants.
Hannah commented (she was wearing shorts), which was awkward. I made some half-assed joke about not having shaved recently that she accepted.
We mostly just stayed on the treadmills because she wanted to start easy. We’re supposed to go back Wednesday and do more elaborate machines. I forgot to bring my iPod or headphones to plug into their elaborate row of TVs. I could literally choose between 8 different TVs lined up on the ceilings.
I’ll probably just bring my iPod.
Hannah also wants to try the “goose-stepping machine” (or Heil Burner as I distastefully call it. I’m a terrible person.). That isn’t what it’s really call. It’s something like the “arc trainer” or something.
Here’s a picture that’s almost the same thing.
Anyway, it was an interesting experience I suppose. I don’t like the gawking aspect, but I think I can manage to ignore it for the possibility of weight loss.
And it was fun going out to eat afterwards at a Mexican place two doors down.
I spent some of it with Texas and a chunk of it with Army. The distraction of friends was nice.
But I am worried about the direction of things. Like I always am when things get too intimate. I want to skitter back. I want to run. I want to bolt.
Army’s roommates are moving to Connecticut. They’re giving him a little over 2 months to find a new place.
And he asked me to move with him.
Technically my lease isn’t up at that time, but there have been such fuckups made by the landlord/property management that I can easily get out of this lease whenever I want with some legal magic dancing. And Army knows this.
He says he wants us to get a house.
Half of my head lights up with blaring neon sirens.
The other half murmurs dreamily as images of a backyard and bigger kitchen spin lazily around.
I think about before. He swears the issues I had with him have all changed. I think about the good aspects. I miss them.
But I don’t think I deserve to play house. With anyone. I don’t deserve a healthy relationship.
I thought about Jeff a lot this weekend. I’m not sure why. Texas mentioned something to me that had me worried about him. I know I fucked things up. I know I don’t deserve to even be around him.
And I know that I can’t be anything close to what he needs.
But before we tried (and I destroyed) that whole romantic possibility, we were friends. For almost a decade. And close friends for the last four years.
I miss him.
I miss having someone I could just be honest with. I know it completely blew up in my face (and my mind tells me never ever to trust to that degree again), but I can’t help but push that fact aside.
I just want to make sure he’s all right. And that things are good with him. He deserves that.
There’s blood in my mouth ’cause I’ve been biting my tongue all week. I keep on talking trash, but I never say anything.
And the talking leads to touching, And the touching leads to sex, And then there is no mystery left.
And it’s bad news, baby I’m bad news I’m just bad news, bad news, bad news
I know I’m alone if I’m with or without you, But just being around you offers me another form of relief When the loneliness leads to bad dreams, And the bad dreams lead me to calling you, And I call you and say “C’mere!”
And it’s bad news, baby I’m bad news I’m just bad news, bad news, bad news
And it’s bad news, baby it’s bad news It’s just bad news, bad news, bad news ‘Cause you’re just damage control For a walking corpse like me, Like you, ‘Cause we’ll all be portions for foxes. Yeah, we’ll all be portions for foxes.
There’s a pretty young thing in front of you And she’s real pretty, and she’s real into you And then she’s sleepin’ inside of you.
And the talking leads to touching, then the touching leads to sex And then there is no mystery left.
And it’s bad news. I don’t blame you, I do the same thing. I get lonely too. And you’re bad news; my friends tell me to leave you, That you’re bad news, bad news, bad news
You’re bad news, baby you’re bad news And you’re bad news, baby you’re bad news
And you’re bad news I don’t care, I like you And you’re bad news I don’t care, I like you I like you