Sorry, I had to get this off my chest.
Sometimes you have to make life choices that have drawbacks. I knew what the drawbacks were when I made them but I believed the choices were not only for the best but the only real and healthy choices I could make. I still believe that, to make it easier on myself I tend to minimize the drawbacks, yes I know what they are, but mentally I minimize them.
So, the way I've chosen to live my life since my divorce is that I choose to raise my daughter and essentially "be alone", I don't ever want anything past companionship with another woman. Yes, there's some value there, it's just not what I want, I'm not willing to make that sacrifice.
Of course the cost of that is that sometimes you are alone when you'd rather not be. I rationalize this by stating, and albeit it's true, that even half of married people die alone. But that's really only partially honest, because there's a lot of "I'm glad to not be alone right now" on that way to that inevitable journey's end.
So, I was lying alone in the emergency room, well, hell before that, lying in bed, at night, in my bedroom, feeling one of the worst pains in my life. I knew I wasn't going to die from it and I'd decided already how long I'd endure it before I knew I should get medical help. Even then I could only take it for 45 minutes before I called my mom and woke her. I just asked her to talk to me. I needed to be distracted, I hadn't wanted to as I knew it would worry her. She made me promise to go to the doctor in the morning if it still hurt, of course I would have anyway, it hurt pretty fucking bad.
So then I go to the doctor, "No, until we prove you don't have a life threatening condition I'm afraid we have to assume it's one, go to the ER." So I went to the ER, and I sat. I knew it would take time, that's fine. They gave me painkillers, but it still hurt bad. My daughter isn't grown up enough in her head to really hear any of this. I told her I was sick enough I needed to go to a doctor now and dropped her off at her mother's.
So there I sat, on painkillers watching time expand and contract in that peculiar way when you are both extremely high and in pain. And I felt small. Everyone was nice, for which I was grateful, but I was just a patient and I know I'm just another guy in there, suffering maybe a bit more than the average visitor and a bit less than some of the really bad off ones.
I kept smiling and tried to keep a jovial attitude, because let me tell you, that's about the only thing you can do to lighten your own burden. I've always known choosing to be alone means this (and for me it is a choice, or at least I seem to think it is). For the most part I greatly enjoy my choice. It's the kind of liberation I've been seeking for decades of my life, something I regret taking so long to find. But sometimes there's that rotten black part, it's not enough to spoil the whole meal, but it's that hair that looks suspiciously pubic in nature in the most delicious meal you've ever had in your life. Will I forgo such a meal for a moment of revulsion? No, personally, I won't.
But I'll tell you what, all the fear, the pain, and everything else (speaking for me alone) pales in comparison to the feeling of being small and unimportant when you are alone and really really sick and you know no one is coming, no one will be there to hold your hand and comfort you. Yes, I want to be babied when I feel that bad, I don't mind who acts like my mother at that point, I just care that someone does. But there's a limited supply of people willing to do that for you and you purchase that with a high emotional cost that I now choose not to pay (not like my ex ever gave me a return on that investment anyway, but most people will, so I'll go with the premise that I could purchase that behavior if I was willing to pay said cost).
So now I'm sitting at home a few days after they cut out the offending portion of my body. Obviously I'm high as fuck, because hey, it still hurts and they did have to root around in my guts for awhile with sharp, pointy things. The painkillers and pain still play tricks on my sense of time. I set my cell phone's alarm so I know when to take more. I know I'm not truly, 100% alone. My brother has been by to cook me a meal. His wife dropped by and did the same another time. My daughter is quietly playing in the other room and trying to not disturb me. But I still can't quiet shake that haunted "alone" feeling. I think that's the real healing that needs to happen and I know it's one of those processes that will take awhile, I always did. I just didn't know I'd be tackling it just now, just this week.
Thanks for reading.