Oh my aching back, there’s blood in my eye!
Thanks, life, for giving me a two-fer on “random physical ailments that are not life-threatening but sure make a girl feel old.” The night before, I took out my contact lens only to find a blood vessel had ruptured in my eye. Otherwise known as subconjunctival hemorrhage, it’s basically a bruise inside your eye. The blood will absord in 7-15 days, but in the meantime, I look rather freakish. It doesn’t help that last night I awoke in the middle of the night with a bizarre pain in my lower back. It was so severe that it woke me up out of my sleep. I had to slowly, gingerly prop myself up on my elbow and slowly, gingerly drop my knees to one side and push my upper body up to get out of bed. No sitting up or jumping out of bed: nope, the pain was so bad and the stiffness so extreme that I felt sudden movements might cause more damage and something might, quite literally, break.
So now it’s 3am, I’ve got blood in my eye, and I can barely walk, much less lie comfortably in bed. It took me several minutes before I could get down on the floor and stretch; I woke up again a couple of hours later and had to go through the same bizarre process again.
When I finally woke up to start my day, I had to again slowly, gingerly move each half of my body to get it out of the bed. Once on my feet, I could only walk in tiny, halting steps. WTF?! I went in to the bathroom to start the shower, looked in the mirror and BLOOD IN MY EYE! I must’ve forgotten overnight, so the sight of me hunched over, grimacing in pain, lip snarled in an expression of confusion, horror, self-pity, and dismay, with half a red eye…it’s a wonder I didn’t just end it all there. Then my BF walks by: “how ya doing girl?”
“Put a smile on your face or something, you can’t start your day like that!”
For a brief moment, I thought I’d strangle him, but I looked at my bed-head red-eyed hunchback self in the mirror and decided my mug shot would be far too pathetic and definitely not how I would want to be remembered.
“Damn, Lola really fell off the wagon.”
“Who knew she was messed up like that? Did you see her eye?”
“And she’s all hunchbacked too. I thought she was like, in shape or something.”
“Jersey did her like that?!”
I hauled my stiff, painful carcass into the shower and somehow got myself together to get to work. I’m in less pain now, but my dear BF’s departing words to me this morning rang through my head as I geisha-shuffled to the PATH: “try to make it a good one.”
I already called my accupunturist and he’s going to try to fit me in. I came to work in my glasses. I am supposed to meet a friend for drinks tonight. Somewhere in all of this, life is trying to teach me a lesson. I think the moral of this story of bodily frailty is “the spirit is stronger than the flesh,” (I’m paraphrasing). I must find the anima to get through this phase of my life. Somewhere in me, after I have been stripped down to the basics again, to a bloody eye and a busted lower back, somewhere in these knee-high weeds of humanity is the answer. The answer is within me. It’s taking bloody eyes and broken backs to help me find it.