the skinny

that's been my phrase of choice this week: here's the skinny.

so here it is for this week.

monday i felt like my head was being split in two and finally made a dr's appt for tuesday. tuesday found out i have a sinus infection and was given stuff to combat said infection, which makes me a bit dizzy. also had my blood pressure checked and once again it's doing that spiking thing it did years ago, so now i'm on this blood pressure medication that makes me want to sleep. a lot. a fucking huge lot. yawn...

weds we had friends over and gamed, thursday dan got a job (not something he was hoping for but a job's a job, at this point.) and we went to half price books. now it's friday. i'm supposed to be going in early in order to make up for the hour i'm short this week but it might be more like half an hour early because i'm feeling slow this morning. tomorrow i have to find a good salad to make for the whalen side of the family, and then we're having a whalen picnic tomorrow night. so that will be enjoyable, as much as it can be on that side of the family. (they're pokers; they like to poke at you as if you're on display. blech.)

the blood pressure thing has been just gnawing at me since i got the perscription. but as the dr said, they're a bit more agressive than they used to be.

to sum up: about six years ago, i was scheduled to have my wisdom teeth removed. this was in march. in february (i think) i fell and hit my right cheek on some concrete stairs (ice + kim = hospital visit). i thought it might be broken so we lumped out to urgent care. where they took my blood pressure and asked: are you feeling all right? because you should be having a stroke... etc. did a bunch of tests (ultrasound was the coolest) to see if they could find a reason it would spike (it was like 200/100 or something painful; i felt fine.) but there was nothing and i was walking more at that time, so the dr decided that i just needed to watch my salt intake. i guess the old body still does the spiking thing when it gets nervous (like at the dr). who knew. not me. anyway that was the same year that i had a sinus infection (after the fall) and found out i was allergic to penecillin (large platter sized hives, a shot of adrenalin and a shot of benadryl, and i was down for the count.) and sulfa drugs (smaller hives, benadryl pills, also down for the count.) and my wisdom teeth had to be put off until the week of easter.

i can't remember when that was that year. it was in 1999; i know this because all of this happened directly prior to corey passing away. it was just like a marathon of being in pain, in one form or another. i think that this week, when the dr asked if i would mind trying a perscription, i just flashed back six whole years.

it was corey's birthday on the 11th--a celebration of life. we're rolling up closer to the 18th, the day he passed away. anniversaries are always difficult; you never know how you're going to react to the day, the month, the time frame. it's always hard; i don't think you realize how dulled you become, over time, to the pain. it still hurts. you always wish that person alive, you wish for a different outcome. but wishing doesn't change anything.

sitting in the dr's office on tuesday, waiting to pick up my perscription, i was transported back. i remembered all the ups and downs, and then that phone call. i remembered driving frantically to duluth on a sunday morning, no wallets, no purse. i remember seeing the sun come through the clouds outside of duluth, the silence that we carried in that car. i remember the song on the radio--grateful dead's a touch of gray--and how right after that song ended it started "don't fear the reaper" and dan leaning over and flicking the radio off. his dad's face when we pulled up outside the house, shaking his head.

they say you can't remember actual physical pain, that your brain cannot hold it, that this is why childbirth can be so horrible and women still want another child. i don't think this is true. when the dr handed me my perscriptions, he gave me a free pass into time. i literally felt as if i were reliving those months again, like they were starting over. being on the blood pressure tablets is a bit like moving through a dream, anyway. you're sluggish, tired, slow. i keep feeling like crying, and i do not know if it is because of all the things or just one--is it the fear of that spiking pressure? exhaustion on the part of the sinus infection? memories of that week? happiness to be alive?

being a catholic, or being raised catholic, has sludged into mountains of guilt. i feel i ought to confess that i am glad to be alive, to have it as good as i do, and still be depressed right now--as if this is a sin, something for which i should do penance. i remember feeling guilt when corey died--why him, why so young, why not me, or anyone else. today's rash of guilt is sponsored by this week and the slow peeling back of layers around myself, by my blood pressure tablet and the fear of seeing my family on saturday. memory, fear, love. i would willingly relive those months, if only to see you again. or rather, see you with dan again. it is not that i miss you less, but that i would give anything to see you two banging around outside with the basketball, walking into the house, flushed and sweaty, smiling.

so today is also sponsored by the sun, shining bright outside in a blue, blue sky, when corey's not here to shoot hoops with dan out in it.

for whatever reason, i am here. something yet to be defined, perhaps. maybe just to feed the cat, or maybe something yet to happen today, tomorrow, next week. maybe the something has already occurred, or was passed fleetingly without a backward glance, or maybe it's just that we are all here for an alloted time period, to live our time in the sun to the fullest, and i ought to be glad the curtain's still up.