Just in time
Implosions are cool and fun and all kinds of nifty, but I'm really sick of hearing about every stinking detail of the upcoming implosion of Three Rivers Stadium. Now the date has been pushed back a week, so I get a whole extra week of blast coverage. I'm not a native of the area, so maybe I just don't get it, but I think it's kind of sad to see all the footage of the stadium in various stages of demolition. And if you're past the age of ten, watching heavy equipment push broken concrete around every news broadcast gets a little old.
Damn it, I'm sad
I can't help but talk about my precious baby some more. Every little cough, sniffle, ache or moan sends me into fits of worry. She fell asleep on the couch yesterday evening and slept until 10:45, only waking because I moved her into the bedroom. While she was sleeping, I listened to her more than the movie I was watching, took her temperature, felt her heartbeat. She snored softly, ground her teeth occasionally (cringe) and mumbled in her sleep a few times. She was running a low grade fever, and her breathing was the slightest bit labored. All the bad symptoms of her condition went running through my head, and difficulty swallowing and breathing lit up in big, flashing letters on my brain. The little bit of drool that fell from her lips just once had me sure she was relapsing. She ached when I moved her, and her head hurt, making her ask for the Tylenol-3. She hates that stuff. I'm killing myself with fear over her.
You want to know a deep, dark secret? I'm afraid she's going to die. I'm scaring my own self to death over it. I try to think of her in the future, and I just can't do it, and it makes me sure it's because some part of me knows she won't be there. I look at her and admire her and think I have to soak in every bit of her essence, because I won't have it for long. I can't stop thinking about it.
As far as we know, her condition is not life-threatening. Very few die from it, so my fears really aren't based in reality. It's just a terrible feeling, and I can't tell if I'm letting my imagination get away with me, or I really do have that mother's instinct that I never thought I had. I might not even consider it if I hadn't written these words in my paper journal on January 7th, the day before she came down with the strep throat where this all began�
"It's been one of those long, torturous days where it seems like doom is just lurking around the corner."
Funny� I don't tend to believe in premonitions or omens or things like that, but that spooked the hell out of me. It also has me wondering about those awful feelings dwelling in the remote corners of my mind. I'm generally pretty optimistic, but there is a fatalistic part of me that comes out at the worst times, like now. I hope this bad feeling is just a product of my overactive, morbid imagination.
That same imagination has visions of me dying at the hands of a crazed killer or falling down the stairs and knocking all my teeth out. It's unrealistic and illogical. It likes to play what if and always creates the worst possible scenario. I'm going to believe it's that imagination feeding these fears, and I don't have any sort of intuition happening. Maybe I just have the death of the stadium confused with Booie's condition. One is on my mind anyway, and the other is being forced upon me. It's definitely natural for me to worry, but I need to cut this stuff out.
---------------------------------------------
One Year Ago Today:
