Journal 5/04/08

Journal 5/04/08 –The last 24 hours (give or take)
I have turned myself into one giant science experiment. I cast my senses outward into each realm of my body and mind, my consciousness like an enormous net… I awaken slowly, warily, searching for nausea, numbness or pain. I pry my eyes open, testing for the vertigo that threatens to whirl me into a sea of chaotic lights and piercing virtual overload. I roll to my other side, sense my dry mouth and narrow my vision as I test my tongue along the searing roof of my mouth. I wearily peel back an eyelid and pray that I will not see two visions of a curtain rod that is actually single. I ease my feet slowly onto the floor, one after the other. I freeze. I self-talk myself toward action. I breathe in slowly through my nose and out my mouth. “Oon,” I inhale. “Nah,” I exhale. I do this ten times gently, willing myself to calm. “You can do this,” I tell myself.

I stagger to the bathroom but fortunately my vision remains clear. There is no nausea this time. I am deeply relieved. My eyes seem to be working in conjunction, not darting the way they often do. There is no double vision and there is no dull pain in my head, just an ache behind the eyes. I spend half an hour on the toilet looking at emaciated super models in “Vogue” and imagining clothes I would like to design while my body does, or does not, do as I will it to.

I decide to change the routine. Instead of going back to bed I head downstairs. It is 4:00 a.m. and late night T.V. pretty much just sucks. I prop myself into a comfortable seat, curl up under a blanket and snuggle with the cat. We try watching some stupid dating game on MTV but I get fed up and the cat moves to a new sleeping position. I switch over to VH1 to watch the top 20 videos countdown. Did you know that Madonna and Justin say, “We only got four minutes to save the world?”

I work then. It’s mostly cut and paste, something to kill the time but a small attempt at perfection that gives my uncertainty a focus. I work and wait, testing my body for both flexibility and pliability. An hour or two later I complete a job well done and send out an email to my colleagues that should guide my students through the year. It is a relief, a relinquishment. I feel I can step back now and see if the kids themselves choose to soar. I think of emailing them to tell them what I have learned about life from my recent experiences. I don’t send it. Instead I send them a six-page final study guide, assign a presentation, essay, and two exams. I send an explanation of the work to my colleagues. I push my fledglings from the nest and dream that perhaps they will soar. I know I have done my best and I am satisfied.

I find myself watching the top twenty videos again. It is around 6:00 or 6:30. I think I am ok. It is time for my award. I eat a fruit cocktail and put on the headphones for my IPod, setting the tunes to “shuffle.” I curl up on my side with the cat, closing my eyes against the rising sun and swaying my body to the beat of the music. I feel happy to be alive, my head and eyes free of pain…

Later I turn off the tunes and climb back into bed while Matt is in the bathroom. I curl up and wait for him to come and lay beside me. We hold each other. I rub his back, and he rubs mine. I calm and begin to feel sleep pulling me back towards its’ oceanic lull. Matt leaves me feeling the best I have felt in weeks. The tensions in my shoulders, back and arms has receded, each joint has popped and I am fully relaxed. I sleep.

I awake an hour and a half later. The experiment begins again. Today starts out ok…