When I woke up Thursday morning, something was different. I knew I was going to die. I had Zach look up the closest Insta-Care, and find out when it opened. At 8:03am I pulled into it's parking lot and tried to gather the energy to walk into the building. As I reached for my purse and my Kleenexes, another car pulled up beside mine. My dormant competitive spirit caught at the remains of a dwindling flame, and I tottered (head-heavy (it weighed nearly 150 lbs. I think)) with as much speed as I could muster. I exhibited goal-directed behavior as I made my way to the check-in desk (why do they need to put it so many miles from the entrance?) Within a half hour I was being sent to the pharmacy with a prescription for an antibiotic to kill my double infection.
I lay on my deathbed the rest of the day. Susie took Millie to school, Grandma brought them all home. Schuyler took some good naps, I moaned and listened "This American Life." By the time Star returned from work I told him that he needed to let me go. It was my time to die...he needed to relinquish his hold on me and have faith. He refused.
So, Friday I began my repentance process. As most mothers (I hope) can attest, when they are not at their post -- not only is much left undone, but the regular messes seem to have multiplied and replenished in awesome fury. I made some progress, but the house demons and laundry proved fairly powerful.
Terrific places to sleep and play --under tables, in glow-domes...
In addition, someone had let the poor dog out for a few minutes and forgotten about him. The animal control drove by and gave him a happy ride to the shelter for the night. $80, an appointment for "fixing" and vaccinations later, we returned J. to his kennel with extra treats and apologies.
Happy to be home?
Then I stuffed a pretty lame birthday present in a lunch bag, buckled Millie in again, and raced her to party. After several minutes of driving, I could hardly breathe. My hives started in earnest, I sneezed too many times to count, and wondered about my capacity to be the one responsible for a dog that I am so allergic to. The Suburban received a good cleaning on Saturday along with the house and the garage.
Praise to modern medicine and antibiotics that relieve symptoms of discomfort, but if I were dead, I would no longer have such prolific piles that need attending to.
Please forgive me for having such thoughts (more necessary repentance on the way).
3 comments:
Stef,
That "sister, your life was not meant to be easy" rings in my ears again and again.
I've heard of people getting second p. blessings because theirs have already "come to pass". It may be time for your second.
i bear witness that you were not faking it (i saw you AND your messy house on friday) and that your sin of wanting to depart this sphere is not that grave or unwarranted. i don't know how you've made it this long.
I don't blame you a bit for feeling down in the dumps. Thank goodness this is on its way out. I sure hope you get feeling chipper again soon.
Love and hugs!!
Carin
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