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The Steamroller
Nov. 22nd, 2017 09:31 pmThis is how far I've fallen.
When you go in for an operation, you're always instructed to wear "loose, comfortable clothes," which is hospital code for "something you can strip off easily." The last three times I had a stone operation (and it still smacks me upside the head that "last three times" doesn't encompass all my operations), the "loose, comfortable clothes" included a particular pair of drawstring pants. They're soft and comfy; pajamai-ish but suitable for public wear. They're my favorites, in fact, and I wore them to draw comfort from them.
I haven't done laundry since the last operation. Today I did, and while I was folding, I pulled these favorite comfortable drawstring pants out of the basket--
--and had one of the worst panic attacks I've had in two weeks. I shoved the pants into a drawer and slammed it, but the anxiety continued. I finally took a Xanax and made Darwin hold me for a long time.
So I now associate my favorite pair of pants with pain, violation, and trauma. I don't know if I'll ever be able to wear them again. Little shit like this piles up until I'm under a steamroller.
When you go in for an operation, you're always instructed to wear "loose, comfortable clothes," which is hospital code for "something you can strip off easily." The last three times I had a stone operation (and it still smacks me upside the head that "last three times" doesn't encompass all my operations), the "loose, comfortable clothes" included a particular pair of drawstring pants. They're soft and comfy; pajamai-ish but suitable for public wear. They're my favorites, in fact, and I wore them to draw comfort from them.
I haven't done laundry since the last operation. Today I did, and while I was folding, I pulled these favorite comfortable drawstring pants out of the basket--
--and had one of the worst panic attacks I've had in two weeks. I shoved the pants into a drawer and slammed it, but the anxiety continued. I finally took a Xanax and made Darwin hold me for a long time.
So I now associate my favorite pair of pants with pain, violation, and trauma. I don't know if I'll ever be able to wear them again. Little shit like this piles up until I'm under a steamroller.
