I may have finally closed a door to the mister and his 72 year old "girlfriend"... but it also kind of feels like I've unleashed a monster inside myself.
I'm a complete basket case this past few weeks, for all different reasons, and in just a few minutes it's gonna be time to tank up on the xanax and get ready to go through it all again for another day... tryin' to do the next indicated right thing 'cuz.. just 'cuz. I guess.
Lately I've had to do a lot of sudden rememberin' and thinkin' about stuff - and my heart and soul are raging - each for very valid reasons of their own... but the rage and turmoil are strong .. much stronger than ever before. just sayin'.
And then there was yesterday morning. Since I was at work early I went to the cafe for a little breakfast. I sat down and then looked up and found I was one table across from, and looking directly into the face of the surgeon that almost killed me. And again, we made eye contact and the arrogant son of a bitch wouldn't even nod in recognition... but he immediately looked away to chat to his fellows and wouldn't look back at me the entire time we sat there. I know because I stared at him... watching him... not understanding how someone can be that cold and or crazy.
But I had to physically hold on to the table where I sat to stop myself from going over there, and that's the Gods honest truth. Not that he'll care, but I just want one chance to tell him straight on to his face, and in front of a table full of the young doctors he's usually sitting with and lecturing to with all his pearls of wisdom I want to tell him how much the two mistake filled surgeries he did on me haunt me every single f'ing day of my life. And then I will walk away. I think.
I wonder if it will be today?
7:30 Update: It wasn't the day. Yet. But I swear to God - I even went up just to see if he was there. But I got enough on my mind... the root canal is tomorrow at 10am. I've had them before, but I have a strange hunch this one is gonna be bad even though I've been on antibiotics for what seems like a hundred years. I'm scared. And lonesome. And scared. Amen.