The Shape of It

Good morning!

Been trying to battle exhaustion to make time to write. What better time to get up than 1:42 in the morning? In addition to me not being able to figure out what is wrong with me, my kid is up with an extremely sore throat. From the nastiness of the one tonsil, I suspect strep.

So what’s been going on lately? Finally got rid of near-constant heart palpitations by getting rid of all caffeine temporarily. It did take several doctor visits to convince me that I was not dying. And one ER visit when of course, my clinic instructed me to do so. That was a little scary but now we know that everything appears to be normal and in working order.

I wouldn’t be so cautious about the heart if my father hadn’t died of a massive heart attack at the age of 53. It was another Monday morning, my parents were in Jackpot, Nevada for a weekend getaway. My father had been complaining of pain in his left arm, which a recent doctor’s assessment had ruled to be arthritis.  His blood pressure and heart rhythm were perfectly normal the weekend before the heart attack.

So when I started experiencing pain in my left hand and arm, hoo boy. Did I jet off to the ER right after work? Oh yes, I did. My heart rate and blood pressure were perfectly normal when I was hooked to the monitors, but the same evening the palpitations returned. So I’ve been a bit of a basket case.

What do I remember about my father’s death? Many things. I remember the shock, the complete and utter shock. I remember how wonderful it was to have family surrounding us, but that with all that family around I kept looking for my father like he was going to show up at any second. I remember the jokes and memories shared at the funeral. I remember the Post Office flags being set at half-mast in honor of my father’s passing. I remember the way he gave me a kiss on the cheek before going out of town. I remember not wanting to touch him when he was in his casket for fear of ruining the memory of that final kiss goodbye.

And there are several somethings in my eye. I have to stop.

On to more pleasant topics. I am going to start exercising. Despite the fact that my father was a mail carrier and was on three softball teams the year that he died, I have to believe that exercise will prolong the journey to my eventual demise. So. We are going to start avoiding carbs and engaging in all forms of exercise. It will help me sleep at night, as long as the lovely daughter or the extremely friendly cat do not wake me in the wee hours.

And what of my brief dabble in skincare? It is officially over. I am a better shopper than a consultant. I realized that one of the many things I would regret not accomplishing is actually finishing my smart-ass book of essays before I die. So. We will start on that today. My father left a legacy of kindness. I want to leave some sort of legacy as well. Even if it’s just crazy ramblings on the internet so that my child and her children can reflect on what a nutjob grandma was.

Other than that, things are going great. Bills are no fun but I’m handling them ok. The job is going well as far as they’re letting on–no emails telling me that I suck at any rate, though I frequently feel that I do. I finally have vacation time but I’m saving it up for special events that my daughter may have during the school year. That and all the days I would have taken off during the summer are already at maximum capacity as far as the call center is concerned.

So other than lack of adequate sleep, it looks like I will live to write another day. How I wish my father was here to meet his granddaughters. There are some things in life you cannot change, but I’d like to start taking a hand in shaping my own destiny.

And to end this little diatribe, some Sting-a-ling-a-ding-dong.

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