So last weekend I was in the hospital; I had chest pains, shortness of breathe…if I tried to walk it hurt more, and eventually (and after a phone call to a friend who’s a nurse practitioner) I eventually went to the Emergency Room.
The nurses were incredible…the physician’s assistant was dumb as a doornail. The nurses weren’t terribly circumspect when it came to the PA either (“bless her heart, she tried using the blood pressure machine…”) and I wasn’t too thrilled either: she was determined that I was there because of acid reflux (I know what acid reflux is…this wasn’t acid reflux)…and so that’s the path we started on.
First they gave me a G.I. Cocktail (which contained, among other things, Phenobarbital)…so when they came in to check on me I was like “okay…so I still have chest pains, and now I really need to go to the bathroom. Then they were convinced it was anxiety, so they gave me Ativan, so when they came in to check on me I was like “okay…so I still have chest pains, and now I’m sleepy…” so then they were just like ‘who the fuck knows’ and they gave me a muscle relaxant, and I passed out…because Phenobarbital, Ativan, and a muscle relaxant will do that to you. During this process they also found out I was hyperglycemic (my blood sugar was at 200) so, suffice it to say, lifestyle changes abound (still figuring out when I can make it to the gym regularly, meal planning, etc.).
Marvin has been blocked from my cell phone since I last saw him and Mom in New York (though for some reason Apple allows blocked numbers to leave messages). For reasons only truly known to him, he called after I was in the hospital (apparently Mom told him I was admitted to the ER, something I’ll have to talk to her about when we speak is that my life is now no longer any of his concern) and he left a message to see if I needed him to come up and help me, and blah, blah, blah typical behavior of an abuser and I couldn’t say fuck off loud enough after I listened to it.
We are, of course, on the cusp of the High Holy Days…and at some point I do need to contact Marvin to be like “when I said we were done, I meant it: stop calling” and of course this brings up the very interesting question of forgiveness, and answers of discomfort. Do you forgive unforgivable behavior? If so do you do it because it liberates you? How do you express forgiveness, but still reinforce that you’re holding the person accountable for their actions?
Additionally, I am willing to at least meet him across a table (in a year) if he actively (bi-weekly) engages in mental health treatment, and also actively takes part in an evidence-based drug and alcohol addiction treatment program. His choice. If he chooses not to, then all the luck on his next life path, if he chooses too then we can re-assess what our relationship is to one another in a year’s time.
I’ve already made other plans for Thanksgiving and the related holidays; I’m also in the process of making other plans for Passover, and I’ll be beginning to ideate and what my future looks like (with a more or less dissolved family situation) here on LJ as I move forward.
There’s a lot of things to mourn, and a lot of things (freedoms) to look forward to.
moocowinthecity 
