From the Deathbed Of
Monday I was in pretty bad shape. Not only were my eyes swollen, but they were dripping this clear fluid, and every time I woke up I had to take a cold wash cloth and rub the corners before my lids would open. That evening it was assumed my mom would drive down from Sacramento the following morning to take me to the hospital.
Then a funny thing happened. I was watching the BCS championship game (I just knew Florida would win), and I had my floor heater cranked, and I was nestled under four layers of sweats and my new maroon quilt, and the bottle of Tussin was within arm's reach, and suddenly I felt this calm come over me, and my mind - always quick to panic - suddenly alerted the rest of my body that things were going to be okay. Often people say, you have to think positively, you have to believe you're going to get better, and for the most part it goes in one ear and out the other. It's not that I don't think the mind is that powerful, it's just that I've never been one to look on the bright side - I just don't see the world that way. But like I said, I had this feeling about things, and I suddenly told myself that I was going to be okay, that vitamins and rest and drinking lots of water - coupled with a healthy outlook - were going to be enough. I also promised myself that I wouldn't take any more antibiotics, that after last year - when I was on four different ones - I had to be concerned for my immune system, and that I wanted to have my body's natural resistance fight its way through this.
Anyway, yesterday I was a little better - enough to mail a few packages and grab a burrito at lunch - and today I feel like I'm finally over the hump. My eyes still look bad - Cheech and Chong could never look this blazed - but they aren't nearly as swollen, and more importantly I feel like the sickness is almost gone.
I'm working from home right now, and if I go anywhere I'm going to wear my old blue Vuarnets so I don't look like a junkie, and little by little I'm going to familiarize myself with the outside world again. And I'm going to try once again to live every day like it's my last, because you never know, one of these times I might not get better so quickly (or at all), and there are way too many things still left for me to do, and way too many words left unsaid that I need to get out, and even if this latest crush falls by the wayside - which no matter how beautiful she is, it inevitably will - there's still a lot of love left for me to give.
p.s. I just sent an email informing her that I'm back in the realm of the living, no longer a sick puppy dog, and that she has no chance to resist my charm now that I'm near full strength. Call me delusional, but I think it's going to be a big success.
Then a funny thing happened. I was watching the BCS championship game (I just knew Florida would win), and I had my floor heater cranked, and I was nestled under four layers of sweats and my new maroon quilt, and the bottle of Tussin was within arm's reach, and suddenly I felt this calm come over me, and my mind - always quick to panic - suddenly alerted the rest of my body that things were going to be okay. Often people say, you have to think positively, you have to believe you're going to get better, and for the most part it goes in one ear and out the other. It's not that I don't think the mind is that powerful, it's just that I've never been one to look on the bright side - I just don't see the world that way. But like I said, I had this feeling about things, and I suddenly told myself that I was going to be okay, that vitamins and rest and drinking lots of water - coupled with a healthy outlook - were going to be enough. I also promised myself that I wouldn't take any more antibiotics, that after last year - when I was on four different ones - I had to be concerned for my immune system, and that I wanted to have my body's natural resistance fight its way through this.
Anyway, yesterday I was a little better - enough to mail a few packages and grab a burrito at lunch - and today I feel like I'm finally over the hump. My eyes still look bad - Cheech and Chong could never look this blazed - but they aren't nearly as swollen, and more importantly I feel like the sickness is almost gone.
I'm working from home right now, and if I go anywhere I'm going to wear my old blue Vuarnets so I don't look like a junkie, and little by little I'm going to familiarize myself with the outside world again. And I'm going to try once again to live every day like it's my last, because you never know, one of these times I might not get better so quickly (or at all), and there are way too many things still left for me to do, and way too many words left unsaid that I need to get out, and even if this latest crush falls by the wayside - which no matter how beautiful she is, it inevitably will - there's still a lot of love left for me to give.
p.s. I just sent an email informing her that I'm back in the realm of the living, no longer a sick puppy dog, and that she has no chance to resist my charm now that I'm near full strength. Call me delusional, but I think it's going to be a big success.
posted by Rob Simons at 9:20 AM
1 Comments:
glad to hear it.
here's a little poem to cheer you up(don't count on it).
forgive the format.
"It's only fiction,Babe"
The twisting, the turning,
the internal burning,
the acid in my battery boiling over,
the acid under my eyelids swirling,
the acid tongue in my head
like Samson's jawbone slaying
the philistines, the blister dreams,
The night sweats, the dead pets,
the lost reams of paper,
the forgetful forever,
the dead reckoning regret,
the snow-packed Himalayan trek,
the flyspeck, the train wreck.
The blank spot on the wall
where I see my own demise
because I see nothing.
by e.rapin
(a noun and a verb)
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