Sunday, November 06, 2011

Imagine we're on drugs together

Imagine we’re on drugs together. Imagine I'm wearing two sweatshirts and a sweater, wool hat and scarves but why do I still feel so cold? Why is it so cold, I say, as I turn on the space heater and get under the covers. I can hear the music in the other room, puncturing my head is what I'm thinking and I want to turn it off. But I can't turn it off because that means I have to get up and go into the other room. What about the colors on the walls, have you ever noticed how the pink wall blends into the green at the corner? I don't like this green anymore, why did I choose this green?

Until I notice the stripes coming out from underneath that small piece of art in the black frame above the closet: four shapes and I wanted them to frame it so that you could see the rounded corner on one side, but they matted it in a rectangle instead and I didn't feel like telling them to change it. Four shapes: pale blue, paler blue, yellow inside a red line, another blue. On that green background that clashes with the green wall. But remember, the stripes of plaster coming out from underneath and have you ever noticed the way the knots in the beams on the ceiling poke through the white paint? Whitish paint. And I'm in so much pain.

I'm in so much pain and I'm not on drugs, we’re not on drugs together I'm just in bed because I thought maybe it would help, why am I so cold and every position hurts because of this bloating that started when I did the feldenkrais lesson that was supposed to help with another pain, between my shoulder blades, a lesson on my side which usually I don't do because lying on my side on a mat hurts my shoulders but now I guess I can do that lesson except for this bloating, I mean this happened the other day too but then I thought it was because of the soup I ate at a restaurant, split pea maybe with ground nuts in it, delicious really but you know how I can't eat anything at a restaurant.

I told the feldenkrais practitioner about the bloating after that lesson, he said it must have been the food but no, today even worse, so awful that when Eric calls on the phone and I answer because I want something other than this pain but no, I can't talk, too much pain, can I call you back in a few minutes? No, not a few minutes is what I think after I get off the phone, I should have said later, can I call you back later? So awful that I get this cold, why am I so cold and my whole face hurts now too I guess my whole body is reacting to this one part stretching out in contortions, ouch, no, ouch. Ouch!

So awful that any position – standing or sitting or lying or half-lying half-sitting or leaning over the sink or sitting on the toilet or crouched on the floor or on my back on the sofa – any position, every position hurts. Hard to breathe. Hard to think except how, why, now, this again? Hard to think except about now, every day it seems, early in the evening I sink into this horrible drained sadness and exhaustion. Makes me feel like I'll never feel like I'm getting better. Makes me feel like I'll never get better. Makes me feel like I hate my life, everything, makes me feel like what is the point, makes me feel like everything, everything leads to this place, always, will it ever change?

Makes me think about that doctor, I hate that doctor, now the office keeps calling me to get my blood drawn again because the doctor fucked up last time but that's not what they say, they say the blood hemolyzed. The blood hemolyzed because they waited too long to send it in, that's what I'm thinking. And even if it wasn't their fault I'm never getting my blood drawn at that doctor's office again, after last time when the doctor was holding my arm with one hand or no not holding my arm but drawing the blood, while frantically reaching for the next vial with her other hand, calling for the assistant who came in and looked at me I guess I didn't look good she was trying to comfort me with all that essential oil she wears that floods the whole office and then when we were done the doctor said that didn't go well, your hands are clammy.

Was that before or after we got those tests back about toxic metals and I have this high level of thallium, whatever that means, no one seems to know how except the level is so high that it must be a recent exposure so I go through all these random things like color drinking glasses from the ‘60s because thallium is used in the production of colored glass, colloidal silver maybe, or silver flatware, could it be in silver flatware? All these things from my grandmother like that artwork I was looking at earlier, seems so long ago, but that was less than an hour, right? What about that ointment I was putting up my nose, from that same doctor, of course – it always left a metallic taste in the back of my throat, or could it be the rice I eat sometimes that's from Thailand, since thallium is in a pesticide that was outlawed in the US in the 1960s, or maybe people are still using it to grow vegetables in northern New Mexico? Could it be poison from the Las Conchas fires, something in the air or the ash? The water purification place says no, the water filter would take all that out, and apparently my level is too high for an exposure through the air, that's what the lab, told the doctor anyway. How much of something would I need to ingest, that's what I'm wondering. The doctor doesn't know.

I call the lab, because the doctor says they will have more answers and I can ask all the questions I want, sounds like a good idea except the lab has a policy that they don't talk to patients under any circumstance, so then I'm waiting for the doctor to call, again. How do you get thallium out of your body and does this relate to how I'm feeling, probably not since no one else seems so worried, wasn't what they were looking for, they were looking for mercury, or lead, maybe arsenic. Or probably it does, I don't know, all I know is that this doctor doesn't help. Hasn't helped. Do they ever?

How much I hate it when something so careful and consciously chosen to help, something like feldenkrais, a new lesson, a new way of moving my body, something so gentle and soothing leads me right into this wall of pain so intense it makes me feel like I might need to go to the hospital. Except I already know that going to the hospital will make everything worse, what could the hospital do for me except give me drugs? Probably wouldn't even see me, it's not an emergency. But stop – let's imagine that we’re on drugs together: I'm so cold, will you hold my hand? I'm scared: it's already dark, how did it get so dark? Please hold my hand – I'm not sure if otherwise, do you know what I mean – I don't want to say it. I'm shaking again, am I shaking? Do you think it's okay if I close my eyes?


Lady J said...

I'll hold your if you hold mine.

mattilda bernstein sycamore said...

Yay -- let's hold hands!

Love –