14 July 2006

Comes a Time

There comes a time in every life where you just throw your hands up in the air, and you're faced with the choice of laugh or cry. Because I am who I am, I generally choose to laugh, after all, Reader's Digest promises me it's the best medicine and they wouldn't lie. Much. Not only do I usually laugh, but I'll go out of my way to make other people laugh, so that it feels like we're all in on one big cosmic joke.

Lately the laughs haven't come as easily. Debbie died mid-April, Daddy died early-May, Uncle Doug died early-June, the day after I had my 2nd back surgery in a year, and now, barely a month later, I've fallen into the wholly daunting task of moving. When I say fallen, I mean literally fast-tracked into moving, although granted, it's only to the floor below mine, and across the hall. I called to inquire about available 1BR apartments on Monday (I currently have an efficiency), I was shown one on Tuesday, I signed the lease on Wednesday, and stupidly told them I could move in 3 days. My brother's birthday party is tomorrow in Virginia, oh and did I mention I have to go through the daunting task of telling my step-mother I am in desperate need of $5000 right now? Because I can never actually think anything through. I should mention the money will come out of what I'll be receiving from the sale of Daddy's business, which'll go through god-knows-when, but nonetheless. If she says no, if I can't at least $1000, I'll be homeless and carless.

How is it I have a genius-level IQ, was once a member of Mensa, and now I'm unable to think through anything beyond "Ooooh!"

In nervous anticipation of this whole debacle of being moved by, oh, tomorrow, and needing money that may not come, I've been enjoying at least two panic attacks a day. Thank god I have amazing friends who were kind enough to come move all of my books and furniture down to the new apartment, and now I'm left with only having to move the small, lightweight things. Of course, I'm looking at about 20 trips or so, there's no power in the new apartment, it's 83 degrees at 730 at night, and my back has started hurting. To be the cherry on this sundae of ecstasy, the mystery illness I had in full force five years ago has made a triumphant return, after being dormant for nearly 2 years.

I won't go into details, cause no one cares, and it's pretty gross anyway, but five years ago, I was poked, prodded, radiated, x-rayed, swabbed, drugged, dieted, vigorously tested, and spent nearly $1000 in co-pays to be met with every turn at a head scratch and, "Hm, I'm not sure what's wrong... why don't you go see (specialist)?" The final specialist was at GWU hospital, a new, experimental procedure that was not covered by insurance, and would cost over $10,000.

"If something is wrong, this will tell us!" This, after nearly 6 months of doctors visits.
"Do I have cancer?"
"Oh, no no - definitely not cancer."
"Am I dying?"
"No, no more than anyone else."
"Then fuck it. I'll live with it."

But it unsettled me every time I was ill. And today, the long-dormant illness has returned with a vengence. And I lost it. I snapped. There is no more laughing. I have a million things to get done tonight before I leave for Mom and Jimmy's party tomorrow, and I've been sapped of my will, my energy, my stamina, everything I need to do what has to be done. I'm scared all over again that something somewhere was missed, that I do have cancer, that I am dying from this.

I have become, in the past week, Worst-Case-Scenario Tippy. And I know I'm WCS'ing everything, but in some ways, it helps me cope better. Expect the worst and be pleasantly (hopefully) surprised when it never comes. There's a small tenent of Buddhist philosophy in that line of thought, the only thing that ever really stuck with me from studying Eastern religions.

I'm trying not to panic, to have a full-blown anxiety attack, and I'm trying to work up the strength to move more shit downstairs so at least I am not completely overwhelmed, but at the moment, overwhelmed is all I feel, and it's all I can do to sit here, relatively peacefully, in my now-nearly-empty apartment, and read the archives of my favorite blog for an hour or two while I try to calm down.

Comes a time
When you're weary
Comes a time
When you must settle down.

1 comment:

Aeroplanic said...

Dude, you need to calm down and not panic! you'll be fine, it's just all on top of you at the moment at once. Take things EASY now you've moved. BREATHE. Seriously! You do not have cancer or any other such thing. You are fine. REST. Do I have to kick your ass?