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Odissi

The last dance to be done in a performance ~ the dance of liberation ~ the dance of transcendence ~ the dance of peace and joy.

Weekend Wedding

He's edgy today ~ I think its his pain - it's making him hostile. He sarcastically barked at drivers all the way home. The unpredictability of it made me ill at ease and slightly fearful. I stayed quiet not wanting to fan the flames . But it will pass. Probably when the new patch that he just applied to his chest kicks in. As I type, he just demanded someone "BE QUIET" who was talking over him in his vent WOW guild chat. Sounded strange. I hope that patch kicks in soon. I feel so sorry for him. I can't imagine what it would be like to be in constant pain.

Every

single

day.

It's so terrible.

It's so unfair.

We went to his best friend's wedding over the weekend. (It was his bachelor party that left us in the hospital for 3 days last weekend.) We had a long drive and arrived at the groom's new house late. The old tiny brick home was a flurry of activity: cute little boy-men in various states of dress - scampering about looking for socks and hairspray and fighting over the tiny bathroom mirror. Being the only girl-woman present, I had the honor of hastily pinning corsages (is that what they're called for men?) on handsome chests and straightening little black ties.

"Is this right? Should it be higher?"

"Just a little higher, here, like this." As I reached out, hoping to assuage some nerves.

It was

just

so

cute.

They were all so,

so

cute.

Then suddenly it seemed all of the lapels had lined up, anxiously waiting for my help. I felt special and important and needed. Silly and true. I was working on the third when interrupted by the arrival of an outlandishisly long white Hummer outside.

"We'll do the rest in the limo!" The groom exclaimed - nervously rushing the gang.

I hopped in my car to follow them since I didn't know my way when I noticed that we'd just made a giant loop around the block. The limo door flung open and the groom sprinted back inside the house, retrieving the wedding ring-pillow. Again we departed only to loop back again. The groom made a second mad dash to retrieve another overlooked wedding accoutrement. My heart raced for him. And when finally our 2 vehichle caravan arrived at the strange purple carpeted revival church, he realized that in his haste and excitement he'd forgotten something else - a CD - The Wedding march!

"I'll get it!" I volunteered, excited to be involved. I scribbled driving directions from The Cutie on a florescent orange The Lord Is Our Savior flyer, quickly took the groom's keys and cell phone and drove as fast as I possibly could in hopes of saving the day. I was on a mission. And happy.

* * *

He was in the wedding party and was so handsome in his tux. But the tux was heavy and the church was sweltering ~ I'd say 88 degrees? It was 4:00pm and he hadn't eaten a thing all day. I worried he'd pass out from a combination of low sugar and the strain of standing for such an extended period of time. Not to mention the danger of heat prematurely releasing a larger dose of fentanyl in his chest patch, making him sick or high or both. People die from fentanyl overdoses.

Big black women fanned themselves with programs handed out at the door laced with pink ribbon bows, reminding me of an old black southern church. The white preacher man wore scuffed white patent leather shoes with his black suit and used a poor man's grammar, wandering off topic and self-indulgently drifting about. He startled me with words like "stinky" and talked at length about "how many people these days get divorced and how men use up all of women's good years and then when they hit their 40's and 50's, and their wife gains a little weight, they run off and find themselves a 20 year old." An occasional "AMEN" or knowing "mmm hmmmm" rang out from the rows behind me making me glad that at least someone was getting something out of his peculiar delivery. I wondered privately if a guilty conscious informed his lecture. Everyone knows marriages are doomed these days ~ but why rub it in your face on your wedding day! So gloomy. So gauche.

And then the vows.... Preacherman made the groom and bride repeat word for word a long series of what sounded again like impromptu phrases. They seemed to ramble strangely and precariously on. When finally the groom was prompted to say, "Precious" ~ a good part of us did all that we could to contain the giggling.

"Precious," he repeated, stiffling his own chuckle.

But when promted next to add "My precious" half of the church could no longer contain themselves, and exploded into overflowing laughter. Others sat silent ~ perhaps confused.

A bit later the groom was promted:

"Your lips," "your lips"

"Are like strawberry's" "Are like ::chuckle:: strawberries " And he threw back his head and released a laugh.

The bride looked much less amused.

Maybe she didn't get the allusion. Or maybe she did but didn't find it funny. But why didn't she? At some point it all just became simply too ridiculous to overlook. Even on your wedding day. Especially on your wedding day. Or, maybe she stood before those 150 people, sweat falling from her beautiful done-up face, bewildered and alone. Did the laughter make her feel alienated on the one day that was supposed to be strictly hers? I contemplated it as she not-so-coyly plucked a crumbled Kleenex from her bosom, swabbed her sweaty upper lip and with a bend of her wrist tucked it back from whence it came. I wondered if my sense of bewilderment and disbelief suggested that I was snotty.

On the other hand, the receiption was as lavish as the church was hokey ~ and everything about it felt glamorous and ornate. Oversized mirrored walls, and white sparkeling points of light in tremendous crystal light pieces overhead like Saks Fifth Avenue New York at Christmas. The food too was as immaculate as plentiful, the DJ as entertaining as the photographers professional. It was lovely. And the Cutie and I danced for the very first time! The first time in our first 2 years of life together. (Our anniversary was July 25.)

2 years!

We talked about marriage and if it was in our future. He said he thinks of it every week and yet is still ambivalent. Regardless, he says, he wouldn't be able to do it for at least another two years.

Sad.

Sad?

I felt rejected and relieved.

Frustrated and glad.

I want him to want me. But maybe I'm jaded now too. Is marriage realistic? Useful? Necessary? Why do it? For the family? For religion? For security? For ownership? Isn't that entrapment? Is that fair? This young couple spent 16,000 dollars on this ceremony. Sixteen thousand dollars on this single day. And today as I type the day is gone. What a way to start a new life. In debt and stressed out. As if being a new home owner is enough. As if completely altering your life isn't enough. I wonder how they'll feel post-Aruba. Will they still feel they're meant for each other? As reality and bills and dishes and open toilet seat covers set in, will they begin to crumble? Are my good years being used up like those young women that the white shoed preacher spoke of? And will I be left childless and alone?

A weekend to never repeat

"Somethings wrong! He's not doing so good!" 

The bubbly man-nurse observed me cautiously, "Why.  What's going on?"  

Give facts - be concise- sound credible, 'He's um.  He's writhing around and in allota pain."

Mannurse nodded and I rushed back to The Cutie's bedside.  Then, before my eyes he deteriorated from bad to worse.   When the whimpering began my heart died a thousand times and when the tears came my heart was eviscerated.  Frantic, I raced to the nurse station and pleaded,

"Please hurry!  He's getting really bad!"  

And Supermannurse transformed into a hero as he finally he rushed off, activated retrieving relief.

The moments before the shot came was clearly the most excruciating millenium that I've ever experienced.  By the time the kindly bespeccled doctor arrived we were bawling.  I can hardly type it.  I can't barely think of it.  The horror.  The pain of seeing The Cutie, my love, in agony.  The pain of his pain.   My god.   What could possibly be worse?   

He said he wasn't going to drink and I never doubted him.  He's levelheaded, and a man of his word.   Not to mention that 50% of his dozen daily medications have giant flaming red "DO NOT DRINK ALCOHOL" stickers wrapped around them, so it would behooooooove him not to.   Diabetes + alcohol is a recipe for disaster.  But as I'm sure you'd suspect from my lengthly preface, douchebag had 5 drinks at his best friend's bachelor party Saturday night leading to 10 hours of vomitting, leading to 3 days 2 nights of IV's & harried nurses, leading to my 5 days of sleepless bedside worry while trying to be his voice and protectorate.  Thank goodness the hospital is but a stone's throw away and little doggie is the best doggie in the world; adapting well to life in her box with the exception of my half time food visits and and quarterly bathroom/mini-walks in the 100+ degree NY sweltering air.  I missed two days of work.  And comically my first 2 days as an exempt college "Administrator" at that. (hahaha - is that as amusing to you as it is to me?)  Just riding the wave of life - unpredictable as it is. 

Off to the store to retrieve water.  His sugar is still high at 300.  Guess we're home but not yet fully recovered.  What jouney its been these past few days.

Another Day Another Dollar

Just arrived at work.  I'm determined to not let it get me down.  Today is going to be a good day!  I don't care what happens!  I will not let it get me down.  It's not worth it.  It's up to me how I feel.