[Who’s rocking her IV line after some drip antibiotics at the hospital? This girl!]
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FACE THING. FIE ON YOU.
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I really did think that this was the week I was going to begin to get my life back together. I finally moved into a real person apartment in a city where I am at low risk of being exploded by terrorism, where I can safely drink the tap water, walk to yoga in less than seven minutes, and generally be surrounded by people’s whose worldly concerns are so overwhelmingly shallow that I can know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I am happily back in North America.
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I have been running in the ravine. I have been eating super-pro-biotic yogurt. I have been watching hella RomComs on Netflix. In fact, I was feeling so jazzed and relaxy last Wednesday that I went for an uncharacteristic late night swim in my new apartment building’s pool… and then, 36 hours later, THE THING began to show itself. The big weird face infectiony thing. THANKS A LOT, POOL SWIMMING.
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I’m sure you have enough gross stuff in your life right now (though it seems The Great Spaghetti Monster in the Sky does not believe I have had enough gross stuff in my life…), so I’m not going to go into details. Let’s just say it was unpleasant and painful and that I am going zippideedoodah with frustration at having this IV jammed into my arm all week.
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[Editor’s note: Yes, Brianna realizes this is not the worst thing ever, in fact it’s a very minor discomfort, and that people have far worse health issues than this every single minute of every single day.]
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And, while part of me frumbles and grumbles and continually slips into denial that she will be carrying this fanny pack of meds attached to her arm all week, there is another part that is sort of enjoying this amusing temper-tantrum-like show. It is that detached part, that perspective part, that has made this:
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List of completely futile things I’ve done this week in an effort to speed recovery from FACE THING
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– Guzzle entire 1L bottle of carrot juice in one sitting
– Keep checking status of FACE THING every two minutes in the mirror
– Poke at FACE THING every two minutes in the mirror (with sterile object)
– Inexplicably drink everything out of straws
– Watch BONES endlessly
– Consume body-weight in yogurt, daily
– Treat self with Ferrero Rochers
– Complain to anyone who will listen, for as long as they will listen, even though I know they stopped caring long ago
– Write about health complaints to anyone receiving emails, regardless of whether or not they’ll read them
– Kefir
Brianna Goldberg 