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Monday, Apr. 25, 2005 / 8:36 p.m. ~Weighing~ This day began in a usual way, finding myself tired of being alive, tired of the routine, the things which need to be done, the going about of the daily businesses, the getting there, the rote, by numbers, living is easy with eyes closed, getting there on time but being late and then having to, and needing to. And evaluating the good and the bad and weighing, and finding not enough good. The strikes in the 'bad' column, invisibly inside my own head, far greater in number than those on the other side of the page, that column which needs filling. Long way to say last night was a bad night, and there was emotional purging, and it's hard to administer subcutaneous fluids after watching "Goodfellas", and cats must pick up on the crying during technical procedures, or any other procedures. It was not a good thing. But Gladys came out from under the bed, on separate occasions, and stayed out finally, and she craved the normalcy I also crave, and she slept above ground for a change, and she pawed at the covers to get under, but I didn't let her, thinking of clean sheets and wet wounds, and it was okay, things seemed better. But then there was the rest, and just making it, and being responsible and 'adult' was unpleasant and I sat and talked to no one, and went about my data entry, which I thankfully performed in a caffeinated and heightened state of capability that fits what I know to be true. And it wasn't until we had the free lunch, and it was meatless and healthy and I felt good to eat it and I ate alone on my front desk shift, and watched the clouds float by in the sky outside, and the new green leaves blow in the wind, and it was only an hour, and I read the paper, and I came home when it was over, and there was Gladys still on her pillow on the bed, as if she hadn't moved, but I couldn't look at her wound this time, and I let her sit, and I felt a longing for companionship and more, and got a phone number for later, and gave out my own, and thought of risk and assertiveness, and sex with strangers, and excitement, because I can't stay down, I have to think of myself, I have my own stirrings. So it was that focus distracted me, and I felt high with possibility, and a future that is so uncertain but in which anything could happen, and at any time. And when the day was over and I came home to the reality of a being I love with all my heart sitting ill and needing my help, and I saw her wound, exposed her incision and smelled the rank odor emananating and saw the pus oozing out of the stitches I knew I had to act, and I got on the phone and called the doctor and he said I had reason for concern, and I had reason the other day too, and I realized he was regretful, he did care, and he mixed antiobiotics and I rushed to pick them up, and rushed back, and gave food via syringe, and meds via dropper, and placed hot compress on the wound site, and administered fluids, and applied more hot compress, and felt I was a vet tech myself, and I could do anything, and I could perform surgery if I had to, I could do it all, in superhuman fashion, famously and well. And she stretched out and purred as I stroked her head, and her back, and I knew I was helping, and I let her go and take up her spot on the pillow again, and now I've taken care of myself, and eaten well, an earthy pasta I made yesterday, and I still feel that desire to be in the arms of someone, to be touched by someone, to be entered by someone, an extreme desire for sensual and sexual pleasure, coupled with a fear of all that is happening now, and I hardly even let myself acknowledge the words I heard earlier, totally focusing on what was happening: the lump was malignant. It was a cancerous fatty growth, cancer of fat tissue, but I'm not even thinking of that now. I won't even wrap my mind around it, nor will I search for it online, research or study, just as I never really tried to find a job, though I've known for months the need was there. It can't be all bad. The antibiotics will kick in soon, the infection will be gone, she will feel fine again, and we got the cancer, we took it out, it's doubtful any remains, but there are X-rays to analyze, and there is a cat who needs healing, and this will happen, and I need too, I need and I want, and I make do, and I count the strikes in the 'con' column and they far outweigh the 'pros', the 'joys', the sadnesses are more, now, but this will shift, and this is optimism talking now. And maybe phone calls will be placed, and voices will be heard, and we can make each other feel good, and I'll make the cat feel good, and we'll laugh, and we'll spoon and I'll wake to see her lying there on that pillow, staring at me, and we can be happy, one day again. Cost of the War in Iraq
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