Friday, October 16, 2009

I give up

Yesterday, feverish and sweating at the doctor's office with a thermometer in my mouth and blood pressure cuff on my arm, my physician said a number of things that blurred out of her mouth very quickly and stuck together like overcooked pasta.

Long story short, who knows what I had. Coulda been swine flu but it doesn't matter now because what it is now is some kind of infection that is raping my life. Probably a sinus infection. Oh. You didn't know sinus infections could rape your life? Well take it from me. They can.

The days I've had to take off work over the last month -- well, I could have had a very relaxing, lengthy vacation somewhere other than my couch. And the time spent alone at home has been maddening in its boredom. It would have been better if I'd had the slightest energy to do anything at all, but it took until today for me to even get on the computer to blog. I am also doing laundry and finding myself out of breath after moving clothes from the washer to the dryer. See? Life raper.

My doctor pointed out that I also had a mystery illness at around this same time last year, so she believes perhaps I'm a winter asthmatic, whatever the hell that means. All I know is that feeling how I feel for as long as I've felt it is completely demoralizing. It's hard to explain.

So tomorrow I turn 31. BFD. I won't even be able to drink away my misery over turning 31 and instead will have to face it head on, along with the Life Raper. Not sure I will even be able to fully enjoy the meal and cupcakes my mom's planning on for tomorrow, since my appetite has yet to return. I've lost 14 pounds now over the course of this thing.

You know what I've never blogged about in relation to my birthday, which actually surprises me? The Loma Prieta earthquake. It happened 20 years ago on my birthday, when I turned 11. My parents came home early so they could take me and my sister to my restaurant of choice: Fresh Choice. Which, hey, remember how cool Fresh Choice used to be? While we were piling food onto our plates, the ground started moving and suddenly nothing looked stable or still, and of course, nothing was. My dad pulled me outside and I gripped a swaying light pole and looked around at all of the trees tossing back and forth and the horizon heaving like the side of a boat.

When it ended, everyone was stunned. I'm sure my parents were a little unsure as to what to do. They were in the company of terrified children, one of whom had been expecting nothing more than a simple birthday dinner at Fresh Choice, followed by the opening of gifts at home. But the reality was that windows were broken, people were crying, and word had already reached us somehow that the Bay Bridge had collapsed. A woman in the restaurant became hysterical -- her mother commuted on the bridge.

My dad insisted we stay at the restaurant to eat. We were one of two parties that elected to stay. The management, which probably wanted to close up shop and go home, allowed us to eat for free, since the drink refrigerator had fallen onto the cash register, making payment impossible anyway. Not to mention that the power was out. I felt like vomiting the entire time we stayed. The aftershocks began and dinner was abruptly over.

At home it was dark. There was no TV, and no phones. Family could not reach us, nor us them. We had a battery operated radio to listen to news on, and we lit candles for a little light. I opened my gifts -- a stereo and an outfit (purple stirrups and a purple and black striped shirt. It was the height of fashion!). The next day at school hardly anyone came to class and the shell-shocked teachers phoned it in with "where were you during the earthquake" stories.

It was obviously devastating and frightening for a lot of people. Dozens died and thousands sustained injuries. There was billions of dollars in damage done.

So every year on my birthday, the news remembers Loma Prieta. The devastation and death and destruction and they always talk about when the next big one is going to hit and whether or not we're prepared. This year, because it's been 20 years now, they've been putting out stories about the earthquake for two or three weeks now.

And, even though I'm a rational (sort of) person who understands that devastating things happen on people's birthdays all the time, and even though my birthday is never a big deal to me, it always kind of pisses me off that the news brings it up. I just can't help it.

Anyway. That's about it for this week. I'll keep popping pills and hoping they do the trick and then maybe NEXT week I can drink away my poor-me-I'm-31-now blues.


  1. My sister can relate to your story, I'm sure. She was born the day of the Kennedy assassination. It comes in handy for me, because I never miss her birthday. There have been times where I'm watching the news and they say it's the XX anniversary of JFK's death and I promptly call her.

  2. I hope more people your birthday than the earthquake. Since I didn't turn on any source of media yesterday, I did not know. Happy birthday!!