Because I said good-bye to my favorite little dude tonight, as I’m leaving this town he lives in tomorrow or the next day. It was a good summer to watch you grow and learn, Nephew Garvin. I will miss your silly faces and games and your slobbery kisses. My heart breaks knowing you walk around the house saying “Heidi?” when I am not there, but I know you are a smart enough boy to bring your daddy the phone and say my name until he calls me. Can’t wait to hear your tiny voice and your big loud shrieks coming at me courtesy of Verizon and AT&T.
Sometimes, if I don’t want to do something, I sing a song about it. As long as I can continue to think up words to the song about not wanting to do the thing it is I have to do, I don’t have to do the thing.
I have the procrastination techniques of a three year old.
“let’s get married and live in the PA wilderness and live off the land and never talk to anyone but our cats. THIS IS DEBILITATING ANXIETY SPEAKING. HEIDI HAS LEFT THE BUILDING. THE WORLD IS A HORRIBLE PLACE AND I NEVER WANT TO TAKE OFF MY PAJAMAS.”—Sometimes, I lose touch with reality. Those are times when it is really unfortunate to be my friend.
That is a horrid title. It makes me sound like a lady of the night with itchy nether-regions, whose origin she cannot track. Let it be known: THIS IS MOST DEFINITELY NOT THE CASE. It also sounds like the title of a bad Nancy Drew book, which sort of is the case in a strictly metaphorical sense. I don’t think I used any of the words in the previous sentence correctly at all, but that is a matter I CANNOT BE TRIFLED WITH.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I am pleased to announce that we (we being myself, my mom, my doctor, a dermatologist in San Francisco, and my surgeon) have solved the poorly titled Case of the Mystery Rash. It turns out, my mystery rash was/is an allergic reaction to one of the substances used in my surgery, most likely Benzoin, the tincture they swab over the site and surrounding area to ward off bacteria and help the bandages adhere to the skin. Basically, I am allergic to surgery.
WHO IS ALLERGIC TO SURGERY??!!?
OF COURSE it would ME. Of course. Naturally.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I am going to research that Shingles vaccine I heard tale of so that I may never experience such a fiery, itching, painful sensation on my skin in any way shape or form ever again.
For Those Of You Monitoring My Emotional Collapse Via The Internet, Part Two
I would describe the amount of pain I experienced this morning as “Is that Jesus? Is he coming for me? And if it’s not, could you please flay my skin off with this knife? I think that would hurt less than what’s going on right now.”
The doctors think that I have an Exthanem Rash (who knows if that’s the correct spelling) from a bacterial infection in my toe that is not healing. That is, of course, only the latest theory. First, it was contact dermatitis from my surgical bandage, then Shingles, now this. I like to just call it “The Mystery Rash of Death.” Basically, my skin feels like it is ON FIRE. I am half expecting a demon to rise up from it one of these days, because it feels like evil is living under my skin.
So please, internet, have mercy on a girl and send all jokes, funny internet videos, or other cheerful things that will distract me to firstname.lastname@example.org
If any come in, I will compile them all into a “Things to Make You Feel Better” post that we can all benefit from for days to come.
If you have a mysterious, painful rash that has been getting worse everyday for the last week and a tendency to be DRAMATIC, maybe don’t watch any episodes of House for a while. And definitely don’t watch an episode right before bed and then start emailing your friends and telling them what they can have of yours if you die in the middle of the night.
Watching and reading Harry Potter always makes me feel better about my life. Because no matter how bad I might feel, it is NOTHING compared to the life of Harry Potter. The dude had a man referred to as “The Dark Lord” trying to kill him. That’s grim, right there, that is. AND his parents are dead and he’s dealing with puberty. He’s basically my hero. (Shut up, I don’t care that he’s fictional.)
It's Just a Roller Coaster of Emotions Around Here
This is the face of a girl who just got told her nasty rash is most likely NOT shingles, but is, instead, related to a bacterial infection in her toe and might start to clear up in as little as three days!
This is the face of a girl who has lost all faith in her HMO after three different diagnoses and has been told to continue taking the medications for all of them because “it couldn’t hurt anything.” We’re talking about twenty pills a day here.
Here’s hoping my pain does go away in a few days. My heart goes out to anyone who has had and will ever have shingles or anything more severe and painful, because, have mercy, I cannot imagine enduring this fiery sensation and crazy itchiness for an entire two to four weeks or longer. You are all magical, superior human beings.
“Do not assume that he who seeks to comfort you now, lives untroubled among the simple and quiet words that sometimes do you good. His life may also have much sadness and difficulty, that remains far beyond yours. Were it otherwise, he would never have been able to find these words.”—Rainer Maria Rilke (via sometimesagreatnotion)
When Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, the last book in the Harry Potter series, was released I was in a theatre production of The Sound of Music. You know what that means? There were children around me, children who were reading Harry Potter. Children who were reading Harry Potter and talking about it.
Now, I am taller than most children (and at least half of all adults) and can cast a very nasty evil eye. With these powers combined I was able to keep almost all the kids in line, with the exception of the actor playing Kurt Von Trapp. That child. There are no words. He took great relish in asking me if I had read a specific part, yet, effectively spoiling it for me if I hadn’t.
I spent every minute offstage reading furiously in an effort to stay ahead of Kurt in the book. I read like a maniac. I even stayed up until four in the morning the night after the book came out, just to beat him to the end. And let me say this about that experience: there are certain things about the fate of a certain house elf who I love more than any grown woman should love a fictional character that should not be read alone and after midnight. Ugh. The memory still hurts.
So, yeah, I stayed up until four in the morning reading Harry Potter to get to the end before an annoying child actor could ruin it for me. I sure showed him, didn’t I? Ha HA!