kielbasa and kraut

that's what's for dinner: kielbasa and kraut. only tonight it's not the usual sauerkraut; for some reason while i was at the store i picked up new kraut. similar, but different. not as salty. sweeter, but still plenty tangy. and i just happen to have some green & black's 70% dark chocolate, which i washed down (as may become habit) with strafford dairy chocolate milk.

the green & black's is good and dark, astringent on the tongue but yet a little fruity, and it folds right into the sweet creamy flavor of the chocolate milk. it's better than, well, let's just say it's good and leave it at that. it's been a long time and my memory just isn't that good anyway.

i have the chocolate left over from dinner last night with rumblestrip; it was still in my cooler this morning. had i been kind or generous or even polite i might have sent the remainder of the chocolate home with rumblestrip, who made the tunafish sandwiches.

ordinarily i am not a fan of the tunafish sandwich and in general i prefer my tuna to be uncooked, but when rumblestrip proposed it i was put in mind of a tuna sandwich that okillezzzz made once and i was predisposed to enjoy it. i was not disappointed. now i will add rumblestrip to my list of people Who Can Make a Sandwich.

while i was with rumblestrip last night i just happened to have been going on about the topic of really good sandwiches and kind of got stuck on this one in particular.

rumblestrip is good and kind and patient and tolerates me going on and on about long-gone sandwiches and other Things That Matter Not One Bit In The Larger Scheme Of Things; this is only one of the reasons to love rumblestrip.

i know that when i am with rumblestrip i am fond of pointing out to her traits that qualify her for exceptional geekiness; she wears the label "nerdy" as a badge of honor but the truth is that rumblestrip is very, very cool. she is loyal and true, thoughtful and compassionate, a sharp thinker, an articulate writer, and a musical workhorse.

we were out for a paddle on shelburne pond and at the end of the day rafted up the boats and had a little picnic in the late day light. i could not tempt her into visiting this geocache.

probably just as well. it had been a very hard day for me. you might categorize as a Very Bad Day any day in which you find yourself on a park bench at the burlington waterfront uncontrollably crying. which is how i spent part of my morning with my mom.

"i'm done", i kept telling her. this is a very sad and fearsome thing to be telling the mother who loves you so. but my mother is very brave and heard what i had to say and then took me to a very nice lunch and a little light shopping at city market, which made me think of k and this cache on a much happier day and in spite of everything i was able to laugh a little.

it was still pretty grim when i got to bert, though. and rumblestrip could sense it but we did not talk about it for a long while. sometimes it's just good to be with someone who knows without having to talk about it.

my plan had been to finish out the day and then make my exit. but on the way home rumblestrip had a couple things to say that kind of stopped me in my tracks; we talked about bob and she asked me to tell her about this trip, which is when i had the courtesy to notice the presence of bob in the universe anyway.

by the time we got the boats unloaded i was crying again. it has to be difficult to be a close friend of mine; you're not obliged by familial ties, and what good am i? i was still crying when rumblestrip left me to go home. that has to be hard.

here's an excerpt of what i wrote her:

it is the crying of a beast, wild and out of control, as if my soul is being ripped out. i do not know how you stand me, but then you keep saying things that suggest that i am actually of value to you and it boggles my mind.

i keep you in this horrific yo-yo state where you never know what to expect and sadly it's only one step removed from what it's like to be me (...)

i was going to do it today.

i knew exactly how. and when. but you had to go and open your mouth and i couldn't bear to do it (...). my choice or not, you would still be very sad.(...)

the problem is that i'm not cold enough.

i still don't feel secure in the knowledge that i'll live until morning; it is a very strange uncertainty, a special kind of hell. and i demand to know what bob has in mind; what's the point, bob? o, creator of the universe?(...)

and just for reference, you are eminently qualified to speak to me about matters of spirit. you know it's true.

now i'm going to go follow directions: i'm going to have a hot shower and i'm going to light that candle and have a few words with bob. of course the decision to live or not, to be obedient to the will of bob, to accept that great love and light, all of that ultimately comes down to my choice. but your wishes, your opinion figure into it whether you want the responsibility or not. you cannot make it so or not so. you can tell me over and over that i am important to you, that you prefer me living, that you would be sad without me.

it never comes down to just that but i hear it and it colors much of the rest of what i hear.

i am not well enough to picture my own joy in living returned to me (i had it once, i'm certain), but i can imagine how happy you will look on that great glorious morning when i can stand well and healed, out of danger. sometimes it's enough to live on for a few days.

i am thankful for the care you take with me, the help you give, the easy companionship. i am sorry for the hard parts. you are a better friend than maybe i deserve; demand that i give you my best.

it's late. the horrible, dreadful morning and its attendant discomfort will come too soon.

love.


and in the morning my mom came to get me and we went to the hospital. i was so tired out i was bearly able to stand up, and mom had to take me by the arm a lot to get me across the lobby and down the hall, through all the familiar steps to ECT and of course there was some trouble starting the IV and they had to call the IV nurse but i had my ipod and was barely conscious anyway so i cared little about the new additions to my really big collection of bruises.

and don came as usual to give the annoying little exam and as usual i couldn't tell him what the date was. i never know; it's not information i use lately. i haven't been to work since 21 december and i haven't been keeping current with my geocaching logs, so outside of special events, i never know the date. and i've never been able to count backward by sevens.

but they get me into procedure room #4 and everybody is very pleasant and they remember without me telling them that i like them to replace my earbuds in my ears after they're done with the treatment, and they begin sticking on all the electrodes for the monitors and i would almost sleep through it-

first they pump in the lidocaine, and that stings a little. they've changed the electrode placement from right unilateral to a kind of compromise bifrontal, so they don't use the caffeine. they drop in whatever they use to help with the post-procedure headache, and then the muscle relaxant and the sedative.

and it is so painful going in that i scream and cry and the last thing i remember before passing out is flailing and clenching with my free arm.

when i wake up in recovery i'm groggy and i stagger from bed to wheelchair to car, but i'm starved since i haven't eaten since dinner (always NPO after midnight) and my mom always takes me to mcdonald's where she gets me a mcgriddle, which i choke down. i do pretty well with the swallowing today; often it's hard for me to get anything down.

when we get to my house i write some checks (thanks to my mom for organizing that) and i put on a hat and gloves even though it's warm out and crawl into bed, where i sleep until two thirty. i haven't been able to read my bible lately (new living translation), because i don't have the concentration and i have a little rule about not reading scripture while under sedation, but i keep it with me while i sleep. i need the gloves or at least a glove because i keep the coin rumblestrip gave me in my left hand. i have to wear the hat to keep the green goop from flaking off on the pillowcases.

my mom has been making sure that i have clean sheets, which i would not be able to manage, left to my own devices. i adore crisp sheets. and while i sleep, blissfully oblivious, my mom does laundry and dishes, mitzvoth of first magnitude.

only thing bad about that is she insists on flattening my underwear before putting it in the drawer. i prefer to simply crumple it and stuff it in, which actually makes it easier to manage. i have just the one underwear drawer. five drawers of socks (which i DO sort and roll together), but only one underwear drawer. and if it's all flattened and organized, it's hard to root around in there and get out what i need.

tomorrow i'll pack my bags and rack my bike and head off to fairlee to preride sunday's course. i don't expect to do well because i've gotten fat and out of shape but the coyote hill classic is the state championship and due to an attendance anomaly i am the defending state champion. i don't expect to win, but it would feel really, really bad not to know how it would turn out. i am not a big fan of "what-if"s. so i have to go defend my championship even though i'm going to suck toast.

the great thing is that i'll get to stay at the Flyingfishers' and if i get really, really lucky, Flyingfisher will stay home from the game and we'll watch it together on TV. over the summer, immediately following my breakup, i spent a lot of time at the Flyingfishers', and i've missed it.

it's getting late. morning keeps getting closer and closer and i still have to have a few words with bob. there's going to be some hard riding to do. it's raining and my boys are out there singing. it makes me smile, 'coz every time Flyingfisher drives by she rolls down the window to listen. she loves those little guys.

tonight i found myself standing tall, walking down my front hallway and up the stairs. Flyingfisher asked me how i was feeling and i couldn't rightly tell her; i'm so uncertain of it. do i feel better? is it just a break in the pain? i have spent my day since waking this afternoon Very Purposefully Keeping Busy. this is what i wrote to rumblestrip:

for a while i had the opportunity to be in an outpatient program run by (name), who used to listen very carefully to what you had to say and then kind of make an analysis of the important points, beginning to help you know how to proceed.

"the challenge is..." , she'd say, and usually hit the nail right on the head.

so i woke up this afternoon with a nearly unprecedented degree of suicidality. i have decided Not To Think About It; even passing examination of how i feel leads to the howling, yammering maw wherein not only must i find a way to die, but i must do it NOW, without fail and before i have time for anything else.

so this is what i'm going to do: i'm going to force myself to write the logs i've been putting off until i felt better. i'm going to watch some stupid TV. i'm going to keep at some level of activity and i am not going to suicide.

i am also going to briefly notice and then put away my resentment: it is a terrible thing for anyone to have to endure. when every simple activity, every tiny thought has to be a purposeful avoidance of suicide, something has gone horribly, terribly wrong.

i do not have any idea what it is that bob has in mind for me with this; i am finding it difficult to inhabit the thought in which a just and merciful God could require this of any of His people, even if i can fathom a God who would use punishment as a tool for correction.

the challenge, as (name) would say, is simply to continue breathing, to carry on the simple activities, and to refuse to relinquish love for and trust in bob.

wish me luck.