Only out for an hour and a half and my toes are numb. It isn't an arctic paradise anymore and yet my toes are cold, curled up to the ball of each foot like a good snuggle will fix this. It won't. I can feel the pressure of sitting in the small of my back. The space that has felt normal now feels vacant... like a whole section isn't there. But there is a shearing, searing fire running down my left thigh to my knee as I sit here with the laptop, sinking slowly into a beige couch cushion that has always been of questionable support. I was only out for an hour.
I met my boyfriend at BAM. Being a little early I cruised through the calendars. We were to have coffee but he was hungry so we tried a new burger joint in the mall. I hurt in the car. My body needed to be upright in spite of the pain while in the bookstore. I hurt in the car again as I hurt now. I want to take my legs off the way my brother split my ballerina Barbie when we were kids. I sat through lunch just fine. And enjoyed the playful banter as the boyfriend and I joked about each others infirmities.
I want his smile. I want his voice to tease me because laughing helps make this pain go away. But nothing that I've found on the internet, including cats whose cute factor rivals those we have in the house, is helping me to find the laughter. My whole body is boiling right now except for those toes. The left foot is comfortably numb while the right is so cold one wrong move might shatter them as if dipped in liquid nitrogen.
Of course I am being a baby. As I am thinking of the doctor appointment tomorrow and trying to figure out how to enact my plans for the next couple of months I come to the same statement: I have to wait to see what he says. And then I get angry because my job has already been threatened. There is a lot to do and not a lot of time left to do it in. My toes are noticeably colder.
Intellect tells me to be wise and not incur more damage. Emotion is nagging me to do something to alleviate the mental stress I am experiencing in the moment. And the cold has spread up to my ankles. My brain wants to get off the hamster wheel that I am on. My body wants more pain meds. My eyes want sunshine. My muse is half sitting, propped on the stump of an idea in the dusty, cob webbed garage that houses my gifts and filing her nails in preparation for a paint job.... but I think she's just getting the sharp enough to leave marks when she hauls off and slaps me for being so immobile and inflexible.
Internal conflict normally warms me. Today, in this moment, as the war wages between wise respite and foolish activity, I am colder. It is an internal cold as independent of the external condition as black is from white. The bath tub calls. But the last time I got into the bath with such cold extremities I thought every one of my appendages would shatter like crystalized sugar.
Obviously I need to shift my focus. This writing exercise to describe the moment, to write in the here and now, is not helping. The silence in the house is oppressive and I've no desire to listen to music. I spent an hour or so with my boyfriend today and that is all I want to focus on because it is the only thing that does not distress me. Though when I think boyfriend, I think food. I am thinking about a dessert to make. And I am thinking that I don't want to stand long enough to make it.
I am thinking of distractions and diversions to keep me entertained. My penpal sent me a new book on German history and some more Reim gear along with more Götter Speise... of the Waldmeister variety, specifically. Perhaps I will make a parfait. I think I have everything that I need to make the colorful layers of wiggly woggly gelatin. Oh but wait.....
I left the cans of fruit for such a delight in the car where they have sat frozen for two weeks. Frozen... just like my toes. And the distraction is over.
Oy.
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