Friday, November 13, 2009

Putting it all behind

Okay. I'm going to purge the past two weeks and it will all come out of me, stick to this blog, and be gone! Venting to an invisible person is refreshing. Maybe someone will even read it. And they will be reading it by choice and not because I forced something on them.

Crazy two weeks. First, we put my otherwise healthy dog to sleep. She had cancer, but was still energetic. She even ran home that morning after we walked her. She was going from person to person even at the vets, wagging her tail. The vet's assistant didn't know what she was doing so it took about 40 minutes to get her down. She kept jabbing the needle in the first paw and the dog kept standing up and falling back down. 20 minutes later, the same thing in the second paw, and the dog keeps looking at the door with sad eyes and trying to stand up and leave, but failing because she's partially poisoned. Not to mention she is now bleeding all over from being repeatedly jabbed. Finally, they go for the jugular and practically strangle her and her head is rolling back and forth on the ground with her tongue out. So bad.

A few days later, a friend from my old ward in Iowa (one of the eight young women I grew up with), commits suicide in a very sad manner. Enough said about that one.

A few days later I go to visit my grandpa in California. I redo his roof for him, redecorate a little, and we make some juice out of this little fruit by steaming it for several hours, and watch home videos for hours on end. He talked about how he is too stubborn to be in a wheelchair. The last night he quotes a poem about how there will be "no crying when he sets out to sea." Of course the poem itself made me cry.

Then I fly to Boston and New York for a few days. It is fun, but I get the flu. Then I miss my 6am flight out of New York even though I woke up at 4:30am. My ride decides at about 5:15 that she wants to do her laundry, and the dryer is broken. So we leave at about 5:40 and I get there just as the plane starts boarding. There is only one Delta employee at the tiny airport so nobody can check me in - it's the same person who just started boarding the plane. I spent 11 hours sitting in a 2-room airport, with the flu, hacking up a lung. This is the day before I am supposed to be back in Utah presenting at the ESR Conference.

I go and present at the ESR Conference, feeling mostly better.

The following day, my grandpa has a stroke.

Then I catch pneumonia. I was forced to buy a really expensive inhaler that doesn't work because the government has banned the kind that works for me for environmental reasons (not health reasons). I am now on drugs that help asthmatics, but cause depression.

I should probably also mention that this is right on the heels of a broken engagement after a full year of exclusive dating.

Things could be worse, I admit. I could live in Eastern Congo right now. Or be in an abusive relationship. Or be terminally ill. Or have a parent or sibling be terminally ill. That would be much worse.

But for some reason (probably the drugs) I have been borderline in tears several times today from the tiniest things people have said that I interpreted to be that they just don't like me. I've also been borderline in tears over things people didn't say-just their body language of addressing other people in the room and seeming to overlook my presence.

So, I am going to count the blessings and try to focus on the positives of the situations now. My grandpa is old and lived a full life. My friend is not suffering from depression anymore. My dog is not in physical pain from the cancer. The guy I dated for a year started dating someone else within a week of breaking up - so what? He's happy and I will get over it. I will regain my health. And I will just have to accept the fact that the government is going to interfere with my right to my previous medicine, get over the pneumonia, and get off of these pills.

Great! It's all settled. The past is going to stay there. Moving forward.

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