The Recovering Pessimist

Helping pessimists see the bright side of life without losing their "half empty" roots.

#XD30-Chapter 20-What a Tangled Web She Weaves

Jun
20

That was awkward. Susan’s mother rushes past me and didn’t say a word. It’s not like she says much to me to begin with and her disdain for me is clearly evident. I dim the lights in the room and pull the chair next to Susan. It’s been a week and she’s slept uninterrupted every night since she got here.

As I admire Susan’s peacefulness, my phone starts vibrating. It’s a text from Yelena.

Paying Nick off keeps him silent. There’s nothing stopping me from telling your secrets…unless you have $100,000 to keep me quiet.

The next few minutes are spent in a coughing fit. I’ve been fighting whatever this is for the past three weeks. Breathing hurts like hell. I make a note in my phone to schedule a doctor’s appointment in the morning before responding back to Yelena.

You just don’t know when to quit, do you.

About fifteen seconds pass before she strikes back.

I told you years ago to never, ever cross me. I forgave you for dumping me for Susan. Now you’re paying Nick to hold your secret. Don’t push me over the ledge bitch.

I didn’t respond back. When Yelena tells you she’s going to do something, best believe it will be done. Paying her off isn’t enough. She won’t rest until Susan is out of the picture. Enough of this bitch, I need to sleep. Drifting in and out of sleep for hours I find myself repeating the same dream. Frustrated from lack of continuous sleep, I grab a pen and paper to jot down some notes on my dream.

Tangled in a web. Yelena=spider. Susan dead…cause unknown.

#XD30-Chapter 19-This is a Warning

Jun
19

“The baby is okay. You had a ruptured ovarian cyst.”

That voice sounds familiar. Struggling to open my eyes, I can faintly make out my surroundings: hospital room, oxygen tube in my nose, and the the faint smell of vanilla mint. My mother is here. Geez, my mouth is dry. I signal for some water.

“Here you go honey,” she coos, adjusting the bed position so I’m sitting up.

Savoring the water, I wait for the coolness to hydrate my mouth.

“Thank you. It’s nice to see you, but why are you here?”

Never at a loss for words, my mother sits on the end of my bed. Dressed in a mint green caftan and gladiator sandals, she’s so zen. It’s disgusting, yet perfect for a humanistic psychologist.

“Ashley called me. Told me that you’re having dreams about miscarrying, Yelena, and blood. I believe Karma, working through your subconscious, is trying to tell you something.”

I roll my eyes.

“Exactly what would Karma and my subconscious be trying to tell me?”

I low key know the answer to this question already. My mother must have sensed it.

“Have you and Ashley sat down and thought of the ramifications of your actions? What you both have done has affected more people than you think. Then, instead of facing the situation head on, the two of you disappear. Let me tell you something, you can run all you want to, but Karma will always find you. Let that marinate.”

I open my mouth to speak, but my mother motions for me to remain silent.

“This medical episode that you had is no coincidence. You and Ashley will continue to be plagued with issues until you make things right.”

Thankfully, the nurse enters the room to give me another round of meds. I watch the liquid flow through the IV as I wait to drift into the clouds. My mother gathers her bag, kisses me on the cheek ,and heads towards the door.

“This isn’t over Susan. It would be in your best interest to listen to me,” she warns, brushing past Ashley on her way out.

Eyelids heavy, I drift off to sleep. Finally, some peace.

Tales from the ER

Dec
18
Hospital

Hospital (Photo credit: Ralf Heß)

Sharp chest pains this morning had me stuck and panicked on the side of the toilet. After about 45 seconds, the pains went away. I got ready and headed out to work. Got to work and I felt “off”. Physically, I was there but mentally I was in space. Once I cleared the brain fog, I left work en route to the hospital. Once it was confirmed that I wasn’t having a heart attack or a stroke, I decided to take some notes to keep myself entertained. Enjoy!

– Putting on a brave face when I’m an emotional wreck. I hate crying. I need a beer. Beer makes everything better.

– Sharing a room with two annoying individuals disputing a $8 charge on a phone bill. Sir, a roaming signal doesn’t mean that the phone is off, your signal sucks.

– If the Universe is trying to tell me something, I need to know what it is.

– Will they charge me for water?

– Why is the bathroom so far away?

– Why is the door open? This curtain/sheet thingy isn’t providing any kind of privacy. Lemme go shut the door.

– He better not ask me to use my phone.

– Chest pains will get you out of the waiting room QUICK!

– How much is this going to cost me?

– Did she say I was being discharged? Is anything wrong with me? Where is the doctor?

– I got all comfy in this robe. Too bad I can’t wear this out to my car. Guess I should put my clothes on. Ugh!

It’s either laugh or cry. I cried enough for the entire waiting room so laugh it is!

%d bloggers like this: