Assumptions

I don't know what to think. This is getting to become pretty common after a life-time of needing to be right or know something.

My regular doctor recently saw me since it was going to be a month before seeing the specialist. Things look good. I'm on a little medication that is meant to calm down some of the hyper-thyroid responses.

The thing is, I don't want to go to the specialist. I keep telling myself I feel better. No problem. I dread going and getting the brush-off. What are you doing here?

On the surface things really are looking better. People have been telling me how much better I look.

The doctor put me on the minimum amount of beta blockers so that my heart rate and blood pressure would calm down. He said it would help with the headaches.

After the first week, I really did feel better. Although, I am quick to tell people that I started really feeling better the day before I started the beta blockers.

The doctor let me know that in some sports, beta blockers can be banned. He went on to explain how in the Olympic games, some archery players were using beta blockers leading to an unfair advantage. They could steady themselves better.

A veterinarian friend said that she heard of public speakers and performers using beta blockers to reduce anxiety or the jitters.

So imagine my surprise when two of my close friends ended each visit last week by letting me know how relaxed I looked - like it'd been months since I looked so good. Hmmm. Or my youngest daughter who told me that I seemed calmer and looked less puffy around the face.

But the most hilarious response was from my partner. We were sitting across from each other for our evening meal and he kept looking at me. I didn't handle it gracefully.

Me: What are you looking at?

Him: You look different.

Me: Really? How?

Him: Ummm... you have that glow - like when you were pregnant.

Me: Great.

I remember feeling obese and sick while pregnant. What if this is menopausal hormones? It can't be pregnancy.

Me: Or, maybe more like people who come to terms with their lives and are getting ready to die. That's it. I'm getting ready to spontaneously combust. Wait. I got it! I'm going to do - what do the religious people call it? Assumption?

Him: No. Ascension.

Me: Right. No, I like assumption. All my assumptions have caught up with me and I will implode. Finally, peace.

He seemed to be finished with the conversation and started to eat. But I was imagining a Gary Larson cartoon with assumption-cowboys on horseback chasing me down. Like an old movie. I would finally be able to give-up my assumptions that are wrong or cloud my thinking - after the required chasing and wrestling, of course. The ego would finally be tamed.

Fighting/resisting/running until I am exhausted is my mode of operation. All of my hard and fast rules, thoughts, ideas, imaginings, and fears, are tightly held. Illness is one of those times when I simply don't have the energy to fight them anymore. Of course, there are assumptions I get to deal with around that. This stuff never seems to end.

Last night, after two weeks of feeling much better in which I consider to be a period of grace, I got sick again. Maybe it was something I ate, maybe it was a bug, maybe it is my psyche calling up more stuff, I don't know. But this time, I did not belabor it. I simply got sick in the middle of the night and put myself back in bed in the best position I could.

This morning when my beloved went to kiss me for the day, I put a hand up to my lips. Sick. Can you get me the Barf Bucket?

He thanked me for not passing on the germs and came back with our handy family bowl.

While nauseous off and on, I was able to move through the day doing my usual things - just like old times. I wanted to cancel lots of things, but it just didn't warrant it. No fever. Mild headache. Ate a little fruit. When I focused on other things, I didn't notice the queasies or dull headache so much.

I will go to the specialist - if for no other reason than to practice letting go of one of my assumptions.