Atomictumor

My favorite movie of all time, ever, is Pulp Fiction.  I guess it says a lot about me, that my favorite director is Tarentino, and my favorite writer (who’d guess it) is Hunter Thompson.  Got a lot of favorite bands, but we’ve talked of that.

I’m feeling directionless today.  After the peace and whatnot of the past few days, I’m feeling bland.  Its been rainy, and I tend to swing with the weather.  Its OK.

No change on my sweetheart (don’t I seem possessive? hee.  I am) lately.  Nurses are optimistic on her body, keeping mum on her head.

I’ll say it.  I miss her bad.  I’m so sick of this.  No massive rise of emotion, just a wearyness that can only be soothed by her.  And she’s not here to do it.  I’m needy, and I need her.  I don’t grieve for her, because I still think she’ll be OK, its just that I want to know the interary here.

Course, we all know thats not happening, right?  At least I have this hope.  I don’t know how I’d handle it if I was expecting the worst, like a week ago.

I just miss her.  Everythings a little darker without her light.

—

I brought her glasses to her at the 8 o’clock show, and put them on her for a minute.  It looked right.  I agree with her now that the glasses don’t hide her beauty, it refracts it.  I used to try to talk her into lasik and contacts, just to try to make life easier, but no more.  Unless she wants it!

I feel good, released, giving them to the nurse.  Now she can see when she wakes up.  I hope I don’t break my leg getting to her when it happens.

Speaking of which, did I mention that I hurt my toe yesterday?  Jumping off the porch, like a dumbass.  It didn’t hurt when I landed, but just after.  I think its a bone bruise.

—

I love you, woman.  I love going to the hospital and breathing in your essence.  I wish it were in the house.  I’m in a house full of people, and feeling so lonely.  Family is great, it relieves me, it makes me smile, but theres an aching hole in my soul while you’re away.

It waits for you.  I’ll hold my hand out for you forever.  I love you, my BJ, my sweet angel, my love, my darling, I love you so much.  Come home soon.

OK, I’ve talked to the nurses, and with Bos and Eaves, and they’ll be kind enough to loan me their iPod to start the music therapy that has helped me so much on BJ.  I’m excited about it.

It’ll still take a long time for her to come back and wake up, but I think this’ll help along the way.

Why?

Why not?

—

The Head CT from today shows that the bleed is not getting worse, which confirms what we belived, but is still very, very good news.  Also on the good news side of things is that her toes and right fingers look a bit better.  Woot!

—

This is still so weird.

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I’m getting sick of the —.

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BJ, pretty girl, I love you.  Its hard to put a thought together with Pigpen shouting at one of the kids, and the commotion in the living room, but its nice.

I have brought him in for a time out.  Also to sit with him for a bit. Parenting is deception half of the time, hee.

He looks like you.  A manly you, or rather, a boyly you, but you nonetheless.

I love you both so much.

—

I kissed him and sent him along his way.

Is what I was doing.  Yesterday, I had all these songs that made perfect titles, but not so much today.

I’m a lil sleepy.

—

The boys came home today, along with my two sisters, their husbands, my 11 yr old sister (I guess that’d technically be the third sister), and 3 young kids.  The peace is gone, but its nice, except I’m tired.  Coffee’ll fix that.

—

We had a nice meal at the Time Out Deli in town.  Hamburger and onion rings, and I was able to eat the whole thing!  So much for the grief weight loss, huh?

Still not sure about Pigpen.  Yesterday morning he woke up with a big ol headache, and was dry heaving.  I wonder if he’s mimicing one of his mothers last actions, or if he was really doing it.  If so, its a first.

He’s loud, he’s pushing limits.  He’s stubborn.

Jen’s reading over my sholder, and says that Pigpen was for real.  Poor guy.  He seems to feel fine now, so good.  I sure do love him.

MastaG is out playing.  He kept awfully close to me at the deli, but he’s OK running around, after making me roll my eyes at him with the complaint that “Pigpen got all the good toys” in the bag.  Theres no pleasing a punk ass 10 yr old.

I’m laughing at them now.  Family is cool.

—

Mom’s coming up tomorrow, I think, and staying for a week or so.  That’ll be cool.  The solitude was nice, but its not life.

—

I missed the 1 PM show, and didn’t have my phones, so I was stressing just a hair.  BJ’s dad called as soon as I got home (actually, as soon as I picked the phone up, another one of those little synchronicities I notice when I pay attention) and told me that she’s fine.  No word evidently on the head ct, down on the steroids (which I forgot all about), vent breathing down to 16 instead of 24ish, because she’s taking deeper breaths.

This is all so reassuring, but sometimes I stare into space and think about how awful this all is.  That poor girl.  She didn’t deserve it, but who does.  I’d take it away, and put it on myself a thousand fold, but I can’t.

So I try to do what she would have me do, and just enjoy.  Love the boys.  Laugh with family.

I love her.  I love her so much.  This isn’t easier, I’m just more able to cope.

Enough with the emo.  Gonna find some fun, now.  See you at the 3, baby.

I love you!

OK, heres what we do.

I’ma gonna get the GAC’s posse up over there on the right. I’ve sorted it alphabetically. I’m not sticking any of our old buddies from “Good Peoples” in there, because, well, they’re already here, and are the first of GAC’s posse.

Now, if you aren’t in there now, and want to be, drop me a comment and lemme know. That way, instead of trolling through all of the old posts, which I’m really kinda not into reading yet (still enjoying my distraction, thanks!), I can just pick you folks out of here. Additionally, if I put your name in already, but not a link to your website, let me know.

Like Lynnster (,yeah), I don’t usually change this stuff. In fact, the links have been solid for a long time, so you folks will be there for pretty much perpetuity. Hope you can take the pressure!

We all love you, BJ!!!

I slept like crap last night. Woke up with a mighty fierce cramp in my left leg. That’s happened for several nights now. It runs up my leg, makes me feel like I’ve got to run to bathroom. Got up 2:30, went to the bathroom. The kids are up at my folks place now, but still found myself tiptoeing around the creaky floor boards. I settled down in the kitchen and started to try to write down what’s going through my head. I ended up going round in circles, couldn’t work out of the corner I’d thought myself into. That’s the anxiety demon in my head pushing for resolution to questions I’ve lived with for fifteen years now.

So I went to stand and stretch, push-ups and let downs, sit and breathe. I have to let my thoughts surface and wisp away. They’re just thoughts, not real. Frustration isn’t a one to one relation with the rug I’m sitting on. The frustration is just thought, not real. My wrenched up stomach’s real though. There’s that connection between thought (spirit?) and body. One works on the other like two dogs chasing each other.

Two dogs running. Spirit and body tumbling after each other.