Scene: At the hospital. Waiting on calcium cardiac score test . I down the last of my vodka with just a splash of OJ. Just kidding. I always put it in my coffee.
I’m not having the test . I should have specified that from the beginning. It’s my husband that’s having it.
My husband is the only one who has ever had one besides …everyone else who has ever had one. Naturally, we are terrified.
He is not a happy camper. He is grumpy. Oh wait… that’s putting it nicely. He’s not in a good mood. See how charitable I’m being? He is really ,really HORRIBLE. AND….
Suddenly I can’t read. That’s what he said.
I was illiterate . His words exactly.
It’s not even my fault that google maps took us to the United Way , this was obviously not the hospital .I know I put the correct address in. I just put on my best “bless your heart” face and do some imaginary yoga.
The reason for my sugar sweet demeanor was not because that is my normal . I don’t like being fake nice . Because that is ugly . God knows what I’m really thinking and he doesn’t like hypocrites. At least I think he doesn’t.
I’m keeping it calm because he doesn’t need to be stressed out more than he already is. I feel his pain on a cellular level.
Secretly I worry and blame myself for any and all issues regarding his health and sanity.
One day of PMS induced ridiculousness might look like this:
“I didn’t get my chia infused mess of a shake this morning because it looked like tiny flies. When I soaked them in my home brew of cashew/ coconut honeydeliciousness, they resembled maggots. Also, I’m bloated… I look like a weather balloon.
I’m starving, like really , really starving because I refused to eat fast food this morning.
I will starve before I put some soy/soylent green mix of cardio hating , fat induced preservative , sodium- ridden guilt complex into my body . Just like I’m not ever ( well ,hardly ever)drinking just any bottled water ( alkalinity over acidic always ) and I would NEVER ,EVER ,EVER drink just any beer. Like it has to be a really perfect gose, berliner weisse, farmhouse ……nauseum
Back to my whining.
Existentially , I am just supposed to be silent, present and all knowing. Basically just like God. The three O”s . I remember them like a chant from Christian school . Omnipotent, omnipotent and omnipresent. I don’t say a word. That was really hard.
Back to the point of today’s blog. There really isn’t one.
I guess this morning has been like an epiphany to me . EVERYONE gets old . That means…even me.
Wait … WHAT?!?! I’m getting old ?!Time to get my will in order . I mean willpower. Climb mountains, surf the shark ridden waters of Australia and start monthly facelifts.