Slacker

So, ... I could have been writing that next chapter.

I could have been betaing that next chapter for my ... 'beta-ee' (?)

I could have finished that blog entry about why I believe in God that is so anticipated by someone. Or I could have written that blog entry about how I got my ass kicked so thoroughly this weekend in group, that ... what? That I wanted to scream, or cry, or say a meek little 'thank you' and then! get scolded with 'ah, and there's that tight smile you hide behind, Violet.'

Relentless. They are relentless — and merciless — in group.

I could have been doing any of that. But sometimes you have plans and schemes and hopes, ... and then life happens.

So, you know how to get a day off from work and lounge about having (very) sexy girls named Michele and Rebecca and a very nice good-old boy from Steubenville, Ohio wait on you hand and foot?

Have an insistent complaint of chest pains.

I thought, you know, yesterday maybe it was something I ate? You know: when you eat grilled salmon, you get fish burps, but then still having them waking up this morning? And they are worse?

Now, okay, everything's fine, and I'm fine, okay? Cease and desist all panic attack for me, please and thank you.

It was kind of funny, in a way. I called bb this morning, and I was like, 'So, let's say, you know, you're chest kinda ... hurts? and it's kinda hard to breathe, and ..."

And nothing, because he said he was on his way and he hung up on me!

Jerk.

But, you know, what else did I expect? We have family history. Like two dead uncles in the past few years. A complaint of 'indigestion' and then they were dead before the ambulance came. And stroke, too.

But I was like, no way. Me? I'm 23, but bb in his furious way of talking at you told me about his friend who was 22 when she had a stroke that nearly killed her.

And at the hospital, it was super-funny because they kept asking him to sign stuff for me as I was rushed right through the emergency room and poked and prodded in every which way, and Michele (who had eyes just like mine ... very intense looking into them) said to him, 'Are you the fath...' And I like snarled, 'He's my brother!'

I mean, like: Jeez! Really!

I mean, like, he looks like he's in his twenties, so what does that make me? Did she think I was a twelve-year-old, or something?

I'M NOT, OKAY!?!

And Dr. super-hot Rebecca ...

Is the hospital hiring on the basis of hawtness? Do they have openings for ... assistants? (Female) Doctors need stress-relief, too, right?

And she wore this, like, black corset under her scrubs, for crying out loud! I'm like, what is this? Free advertising? "Come work at our hospital!" I'd ... come, all right! I tell you what!

You know.

And then good old country boy Jim, the RN, comes in, and he's all easy-going and comfortable ... until I say, 'When can I go to work?' And then he gets all didactic with a leaning-in stance and pointing finger and is like 'Acute chest pains? Honey,' (he called me 'honey,' tee-hehe!) 'you're under 24-hour observation here!'

And I'm like, okay, now ...

See, I have this thing about hospitals? So my blood pressure and heart rate were already off the charts? (177/85, I think, and 90 bpm) And they want me to stay? AND WHEN can I get writing in? Because they sure as hell weren't going to provide me a Mac. What? Was I going to be force-fed Winnie the Pooh on the Disney channel all night?

Ugh!

Fortunately for me, I passed all the tests with flying colors. No inflammations nor blood clots anywhere. And, of course! the pain went away after I was sequestered away in an emergency care room. It did return for a bit, but a tylenol and a tums and lots of TLC from the hospital staff made that go away again.

And saying to Jim that I don't like taking medicine as he's handing you the tylenol?

Good old easy-going country boy was replaced by 'Jim, The Registered Nurse and You WILL Take this Medication if You Know What's Good for You!'

If he wasn't so determined to get me well, I was more than a bit convinced he would've wanted to act out his death glare on me.

Getting a sonogram was ...

... well, and then they asked, you know, routinely because of my congestion if did I think I was pregnant ...?

Ouch. Just ouch.

So, but I was given a clean bill of health, which puzzled the doctors mightily, and was allowed to be sent home on my merry way, thank God! ... with the understanding, of course, that I return right away if the pain returns. bb drove me home — not to sbux — and I got a nice nap in.

Do you know what my biggest fear is? I mean, after I found that, no, I wasn't having a heart attack?

I mean, looking back on my life, and yes, I'm young, okay? I know, so back off, okay? But if Drew Barrymore can write her autobiography at 13, then well, I can look back on my life, okay?

Well, I mean, I'm ready. I mean, I'm in the middle of everything, but isn't everybody? And I ... well, I've dared. I've stepped out. I've actually published what I've written. And actually had something come from that, like save lives and made friends. And had friends dare to publish what they've written me. And lives have been touched and saved from their writing, and they've gotten more reviews than I ever have had. So, I've lit the torch and passed it on.

So I'm ready. If today was the day, I would have died happy.

So that's not what I'm scared of.

You know what I'm scared of? I'm scared of what they'll say to me — and what they won't say to me — at work. I mean, 'oh, Violet, are you okay?' or just that look, you know? Or will they try to pretend everything's okay? Or will they be concerned and caring and extra careful around me or ...

I'm getting sick, just thinking about it. What they'll say, and what I'll have to say. Or what they won't say, and what I won't say, you know?

Silly little `phfina, almost maybe dying of a heart attack, and her biggest worry is what other people will think.

*sigh*

I know. I know. 'Live boldly!' 'Who cares what they think?' an' a' that.

And that's true.

So, what I think I'll go do ... no: what I will do is snuggle up in bed under the nice, warm covers and eat some chips and hummus and watch a cute little romcom like Le Placard or Le Valet or Bride and Prejudice ... or, maybe My Big, Fat GR∑∑K Wedding.

Nighty-night all!