Untying Knots

I got a phone call yesterday regarding a job that I had applied to eight or ten weeks ago.

The job was for a writing position near where Mr. Earthquake was moving.  I really didn't want to move to the South. But, a couple months ago, during a conversation about what we were doing to feed and grow our relationship,  Mr. E told me it would be nice if he got an encouraging card or loving email once in a while. He said I didn't do things like that often enough. He suggested that perhaps I could look at schools and jobs near him.

He said that it would be nice to know I was working towards being together. So, to work towards that, I looked at possible schools and possible jobs.

Taking a different tack to work towards being together, he took up with some woman that was exactly what he said he didn't want. But hey, maybe she is that needle in the haystack. Well except for that minor detail that she is a single mom--he has "tried dating women with kids and it didn't work." Oh, and that whole part about how long distance relationships are too hard. But too late now. They are Facebook official. Poor girl.

Anyway, while he was off looking behind Door Number 2, I saw a job that would be well suited for me. And I applied. I didn't tell anyone, because it seemed mean to give anyone false hope or false worry.

I had honestly forgotten all about the job. I've had other things on my mind in the last couple weeks. But they called me to set up a phone interview. I could have made this job happen. I am sure of it. I was who they were looking for. But, I had to thank them for considering me and decline.

It is too much for me to even think about. Once again, I had brushed against the beach ball.

Anyway, I had some other knots I had to wrench free. I unpacked the small box that was ready to be sent East for the most horrid of all holidays. I hate Valentines Day. I always have. But I wanted to give something to the man I loved.

Aside--I wish there was a switch I could flip to turn off love. But, nothing in my life is that easy. So who are we kidding with love in past tense.

Until my father retired a while ago, my family owned a jewelry store. My grandfather purchased it, and that is how my grandparents ended up in Utah. My father took it over when my grandpa died. One of the very special things we had at the store was a series of private label watches.

They are lovely timepieces with the name of my grandfather's store inscribed on the face. And there is a fairly exclusive club of watch owners. They are given as an award to a Westminster College graduating student who had overcome great obstacles to make it through school. Every once in a while, I come across one out in the world. And when I do, I know that, in a way, they are a part of my family.

And I wanted Mr. E to have one.

That was what was in the box. It's a beautiful watch. A dual time movement that can be set to both his and my time zones. I thought it would be a sweet reminder that we were never that far away from each other.

The watch goes back in my drawer. Maybe Kidlet will like to wear it someday, when he goes off to explore the world. The card that was on top of the box goes in the recycling bin.

There is no better place to be than Las Vegas in July (she said, with great sarcasm). But that is when RollerCon happens. And I really wanted to go. All the clinics, the friendships, the skating. I really wanted to feel like a part of it. But I didn't buy a ticket. I was planning to use the money on seeing E that week, because it is his birthday--the day after my birthday. It will be his 40th. I was trying to organize something special.

So... I'm free the last week of July if anyone wants to do anything. I took the time off work already, so I'm up for suggestions.

I built his children a board to store their Lego figures. I thought it would be nice for them to hang in their new room at their dad's apartment. I had that ready to send as soon as I had E's new address. Maybe my nephew would like it.

So, yes, because of recent events and earthquakes, I've had to undo some knots.

But, there have been other knots undone as well. The constant knot in my stomach--the one that would tighten when I thought about the next humiliation that I would experience--that knot is dissolving. The knot between my shoulder blades that burns when I am stressed and sad has gotten a little better. The other shoe has finally fallen.

The delicious irony of this whole sad story? I am the needle. And I never hid in any haystacks.

Trypa- what?

Trypanophobia is the fear of needles.

About 20 percent of humans are needle-phobic. Being afraid of needles is actually a beneficial evolutionary trait. Thousands of years ago, the early humans learned that they had a greater chance for survival if they avoided stab wounds or punctures. If these humans fainted upon seeing a tool that could result in pierced flesh, they signaled that they were not a threat. Passing out when seeing something sharp and pointy allowed them to survive, thereby producing the next generation of fainting humans.

Needles can be someone’s downfall. Tough guy rocker Alice Cooper says that the only thing he is scared of is a needle. He explains, “I can put my head in a guillotine and play with a snake. But no needles!” In Game of Thrones, young Arya is given a sword that her brother Jon had made for her. Jon tells her that all the best swords have names. After being coached to stick her enemies with the pointy end, she names her sword Needle.

Fear of needles is actually in our blood, so to speak. Deep in our reptilian brains, we recognize needles as a threat. I have never really been afraid of needles. It’s a good thing too, because needles are now significant objects in my daily (or at least weekly) life.

It’s not fun giving myself the Avonex. I don’t yearn to get home so I can dose myself with interferon beta. I can play connect the dots with the bruises on my thighs at my injection sites.

The first month I took Avonex, I used a pre-filled syringe. Now I use the auto-injector pen, similar to the Epipen carried by people with severe allergies. The needle in the auto-injector is much smaller than the needle of the pre-filled version. And you cover the needle with part of the pen before you place it on your leg and push the button. Done and done.

But the syringe… I can’t tell you the high amount of intestinal fortitude I need to push that needle I am holding through my own skin. I am not afraid of needles. I’ve been inoculated, epidural-ed, pierced, and tattooed. I’ve given blood, where they stick a needle the size of a Capri Sun straw into your arm. I’ve gotten IVs. I’ve had a catheter in my arm for a week when I was receiving daily infusions.

I’m not afraid of needles. But holding a syringe in your own hand, piercing your own skin, pushing the plunger to administer the medicine with your own thumb... It’s hard to do. Even now--while I have transitioned to the Avonex auto-pen--I still have to stick myself with an old-school syringe when I give myself my B-12 shot. 

As much as I hate those needles loaded with medicine, I love, love the needles loaded with ink. I love my tattoos. I love getting tattooed. I love the day after getting the tattoo, when the colors are so bold. I love the healing process, where the fresh ink sheds its scab and emerges like a butterfly from the cocoon.

I really want another tattoo. I am trying to figure out how to break it to my dad. My current strategy is to talk him into going with me to get one of his own. I am not completely confident in this strategy. Maybe I should start working on my mom.

Isn’t it funny how the simple needle can generate so much fear, deliver so much health, create so much beauty. How many things in this world can we say that about?

Avonex and 8 Wheels

There are two things in my house right now that I never even imagined might be there: Avonex and Quads

The Avonex is Interferon beta, an injectable medicine that is supposed to reduce the frequency of MS relapses. I keep it in my fridge, right next to the half drunk bottle of white. 

Quads are the speed skates used in the Derby. Four wheels on each boot. They are supposed to go fast. I keep them in a gym bag with my pads, helmet, and a couple of dryer sheets to cut the wonderful stink.

My favorite thing about Avonex? You might think it is the needle in my thigh every seven days. Ha, you would be wrong! It isn't even the flu-like symptoms that visit me about 24 hours after the shot. Who doesn't love the chills! No, it is this, straight out of the stack of literature that gets delivered with the meds:

"The way Avonex works in MS is not known."

What the…

I got my first pair of skates yesterday. I had been borrowing the skates I used for the last two team workouts. As soon as I opened the box and smelled the leather of the boots, I laced them on. I wore them around my house for an hour. There are parallel wheel tracks all over my carpet.

My favorite thing about my skates? I was brave enough to have a need for them.