Tuesday, June 28, 2011

We'll come back for Indian Summer

Productive day so far. I went to the gym after work (which is probably the best time to go, when I'm already tired and too out of it to even register how physically exhausted I am becoming), came home, read the Bible, crashed, got up at a not-too-late time and put on makeup (! which I've been doing more often these days. I stayed away from it for a long time, then I started using it on and off. I'd like to make it a regular part of my regime, but without becoming too dependent on it. I don't want to freak out at the idea of someone seeing me without it), high-tailed it into town and now I've started writing. Good on me.

Last night one of the residents at work had a gushing (gushing!) nosebleed. I wasn't even assigned his side of the building, but I went into his room to get him up because my coworker was having some trouble with him. The moment he sat up blood started pouring out. One of the little coworkers with me (Chatterbox) could not handle the bodily fluid thing so I just stood there, pressing endless wads of tissue to his nose, pinching the bridge to try to get it under control. In short, it was a marathon of blood. We finally had to call up his family and they opted to shuttle him to the hospital. The interesting thing was that this resident is often one of our most difficult. He's been known to punch (hard) and be generally resistant when we try to get to the bathroom. Other than Old Terror, he's the only one that really makes me nervous sometimes, because he could genuinely hurt me. He's also been known to get angry if you repeatedly try to help him with something. But last night it was mostly he and I while my other coworkers bustled around, trying to get him ready to go, and I just stood there with him, pressing the soaked tissues to his nose, patting his shoulder. He didn't get angry or try to bat me away even once. I felt kind of honored, standing there, bravely catching his blood. As it turns out, he's on a certain medication that thins the blood and can cause such bleeding-- my grandmother was on the same thing, come to think of it.


On a different note, I realized something supremely wonderful today. Ok, so this is kind of gross, but it must be said: For about two years, I was really bad about brushing my teeth. I'd brush them, but only once every few days. I remember realizing once that I had gone a week without touching them. This happened a couple times. I know, disgusting. But it wasn't so much that I was so busy I'd forget, I just didn't want to do it. I just didn't care. I didn't like to take care of myself, I didn't want to bother. I'd either be too depressed to mess with before-bed hygiene (often falling asleep in my clothes) or I'd just be too self-loathing to give a shit. What did it matter if my teeth fell out? I didn't care. I was miserable anyway and ugly, so why bother? It was getting to the point of being ridiculous, which is why this year one of my lamest resolutions was to try to brush twice a day. Wasn't happening. I'd still crawl into bed without washing my face or touching my teeth or even changing (or even clearing stuff off of my bed. it didn't matter). I did try harder, I did think about it more, but I'd still veto it and only brush if the toothbrush happened to be staring me in the face. Then I moved here. Then I got work.

Then one day, Amanda and I were at Wal-Mart and Amanda mentioned that there were so many toothbrushes in the house that she was always unsure about which one was hers, so she wanted to buy a distinct one. I suggested getting a weird kid's toothbrush. I remember when I was a teen and still living with my parents, my mom would occasionally come home with random things for me like princess or star wars toothbrushes, just for fun (obviously I was too old for them and that was the joke). Amanda thought that was hilarious and she picked out a (in her words) "badass" batman toothbrush. She was thrilled with it. At this point I had even forgotten where the devil my own toothbrush was. I surveyed the selection. "You should get one, too!" Amanda said. Why not? She helped me pick out a Spiderman-with-web-of-fire brush. I took it home and admired how silly it looked beside Amanda's Batman.

Then I started to use it. I have been brushing my teeth twice a day.

This isn't because Spiderman toothbrushes are awesome (although it does make it easier to tell which is yours). This is because there is something very right about me being here. This is because I know I am doing the correct thing. I want to take care of myself, suddenly. I want my teeth to be healthy, I want to be healthy. I'm liking myself more. And I didn't even realize it until this morning, as I was rinsing off Spidey and returning him to his place beside his DC comic pal.

This is good. This is all so good.

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