Am I Going To Commit Murder Between Now & Monday?

Not your typical Tarot question, but it was one I asked Friday night. (The Tarot said "no" btw - Phew!)

I have a friend who came into town Friday afternoon.....and by Friday night, I was ready to kill her. Ever had a relationship that frustrates you to no end, yet you're bonded in a way that is deeper than like or dislike? We've known each other for twenty-seven years, and while we're not involved in each others daily lives, the history is there, holding a steady course under the currents up above.

I used to call her parents Mom & Dad, and often walked right in the backdoor like I lived there. She knew my brother, and both of my parents - all of whom are dead now. She remembers when I used to sing, and has a strange rivalry with me over brains and money. We get along, most of the time, and sometimes? *sigh*

She once told her roommate that I was coming, and then said "Don't judge her by me". She and the roommate weren't getting along, and she wanted her to meet me without prejudice. Cynthia and I got along very well - she was warm, motherly and worried about my friend. We talked for a number of hours, right out of the gate.

I spend most of my time with people who are/were suffering from an illness, and working hard to overcome it. That illness, obesity, has many children that come with it - diabetes, heart disease, high blood pressure and more. I know most of those people through a website dedicated to weight loss surgery, and they are in all stages of health. Some of them are post-op four or five years, and some are still fighting insurance for a chance to live. Health is something we live and breathe.

So it is rare for me to spend concentrated time with someone who is actively self-destructive. She talks about retiring when she's 60, but I could easily see her dying before then. She once was an alcoholic, which she gave up years ago. She surrounds herself with people in crisis, and is actively involved in their daily dramas. The bankruptcy should fall off her record in the next three to four years, yet she still talks about credit as if it's free. She makes more money than I do, yet I've owned two homes, paid cash for my car, and am putting thousands of dollars into my 401k, and she has $500 to her name.

Today she told me that she quit smoking about six months ago, which I'm both happy and surprised about. Apparently she has COPD, a lung disease which is both incurable and unstoppable. Today she has difficulty breathing. By the time she is sixty, she'll have emphesema. The only solution they've offered her is to lose weight, yet she considers dieting too much trouble. I would NEVER recommend WLS to her, because she simply can't comprehend the consequences of inaction. If she neglects her health as is, she may live another twenty years. Given the same surgery that saved my life, she'd probably be dead in five. Neglect would no longer be benign.

How do you help someone like this?

As much as she frustrates me, I don't need to kill her. She's doing an admirable job of killing herself, one day at a time. I bang my head against the wall in silent agony, seeing the potential that is wasted, and she doesn't get it. What good am I to her or her to me?

She is one of my memory-keepers - the people who remember me from way back when. That is of value to me. But what am I to her? I have no idea - but no matter how brutal I am to her, how honestly I share my frustrations, she can't wait to come visit me no matter where I live - Seattle, Florida, Texas, Kansas - no state is too far or inconvenient. So she must get something out of it.

Her flight leaves Tuesday night, and she's checking into a hotel on Monday...to watch tv. Yes, I'm one of those preternatural aliens who *gasp* doesn't own a television or subscribe to cable, and it's worth $130 to her to catch up on soap operas - the fabled lives of people who don't exist. She just spent seven days on a train and doesn't read, and hasn't seen a show in over a week. I haven't watched television on a regular basis in almost twenty years. (Although truth be told, I do enjoy CSI and try to catch an episode here and there at my brothers and one of my favorite hotel luxuries is staying up until 4am at the Beau Rivage watching reruns of the X-Files.)

Despite all of that, we had fun today. And probably will tomorrow.

I'm still counting the hours.

--BT

A Steady and Constant Heartbeat

Driving is a form of meditation in motion - the rhythmic movement between the lines, waves of light and sound drift passed in a steady and constant heartbeat. Energy is on the move, and I feel the pulse of life reverberating off my skin. I had a really interesting day, and just couldn't go straight home. I took the long way to enjoy the quickening and peace that come from the road.

I've been reading a lot lately, mainly books I had started and never finished. Yesterday I was engrossed in a new one called The Thirteenth Tale, and read until after 3am. I awoke full of energy and verve, my skin radiating heat, my passions awakened. I'm usually cold and 'not a morning person' doesn't begin to describe it. Was it the return to literature or the ferrous gluconate I've been taking?

My doctor's nurse called me this morning with the results of some labs I've had recently - apparently I reacted poorly to the glucose tolerance test, but my D3 is really good. Now I need an iron tolerance test because my recent labs indicated I have no stores left.....thus the ferrous gluconate. At the DS support group meeting tonight, I inquired about whether hypoglycemia is a known side effect of the DS. The answer I got indicated that there is something that is seen with RNY patients, and it *could* be in the DS population as well - there just haven't been enough cases for it to come to the attention of the researchers.

I also learned late tonight that a DS'er named Kelly K passed away this morning. She was a sweet and interesting woman - knowing that she was at risk for complications, she went into it at peace. Still she could not have imagined the last six months of daily battles she would fight with septic shock, infection after infection, and the ever-present attendance of the man she loved. They had ten good years together, but it's never enough when you're faced with the reality of what 'til death do us part' really means.

My own love confessed this morning that he's been secretly concerned about the potential of pregnancy, which manifested in an odd form of abstinance I only now understand - this despite our use of birth control. I recognize the base of fear isn't really about babies, birth control, or our future together - it's about stability and mitigating risks. He's preparing to take a huge leap into the void, wanting to buy a house, and that's one little duckling that could throw the whole row off track. It's a big decision - where you live is such an important foundation for the life you live within its walls.

I went to a house concert tonight, which was held in a gorgeous location. The house itself had a great open floorplan, simply classic lines with light and air and space in abundance. Walking inside I felt as if I could breathe a little deeper. Even before they took the stage, a quiet vibration of harmony echoed down the hall, up the stairs, stretching out the multitude of windows towards the city lights. I want to live in a house that feels like that.

The music has ended, but certain notes and images linger on. I still feel that steady and constant heartbeat underneath my skin.

--BT