My Keyboard

I love my nurse practitioner. I really hate that she works here because I want her to have her own practice so that she can be my actual doctor instead of just the one I saw for a few days. She understands that I try to be the funniest person in the room and she is going to try and kick my ass in all the right ways. I cannot abide a doctor I don’t think is smarter than me. I do not have that problem.

I also have a social worker that is hooking me up with all kinds of services. I don’t know which I’ll need because Dana doesn’t know where she wants to go, either- or I assume. I cannot talk to her right now. I told her to come last night and then she told me that she was grieving the loss of our relationship and I said, “did we make a mistake?” She said she didn’t think so. I was so down that I just uninvited her. I’m grieving, too. I do not want to believe that it is over, and I am also ready to leave and never look back. It is a strong cognitive dissonance, because I do not know which I want more.

I still think that moving to DC is the best option for me at this time. It’s not really that I need a change of venue. That’s just an added bonus. It’s that I’ve lived there before and I have friends from DC to New York that I NEVER get to see. Plus, I miss walking downtown. I used to take the Metro in and just get lost for hours on purpose. In DC, there is so much to see that it is beneficial to wander around by yourself. I tend to take lots of pictures and journal my findings. My favorite place to sit is on The Mall, because it is the BEST people-watching. Sometimes you’re watching famous people, but most of the time, you are watching families out with their dogs. So calming to be by myself- an observer and recorder, like most writers are.

I can picture my apartment. Hopefully SE Waterfront, near my old church. It’s a funny story about how we found it to begin with. My first wife, Kathleen, and I were in Lambda Rising when I found a book with Susan Leo standing in the sanctuary at Westminster. I took it as a sign from God and the first Sunday I met Brian and Ruth Hamilton, the co-pastors, they were doing coffee and muffins for communion. Ruth said, “I hope you don’t mind.” I said, “of course not. Coffee has always been a life-giving substance for me.” It THRILLS me that Ruth and Brian are STILL THERE!!!! So, even if I live in a different area and decide on a different church because of it, I still want to visit occasionally. I helped put in the tile floor in the sanctuary.

But that is later. Right now I have to make sure that I am stable enough to go to work every day. The struggles I have been having at work are all due to repressed trauma that hasn’t been treated until now. I am hoping that getting rid of the trauma is as easy as getting it, but I know that’s impossible. It is good to feel hope today. It is good to feel alive and to know what I want to do and where I am going. I am applying all over the place, and I have a friend who works for Congressional Quarterly that is next on my list for a phone call (look at me! I make calls now!) I will also be applying at The White House, because I deserve to have a shot at an interview to be Sam Seaborn. I don’t know that I deserve the job, but I deserve to be SEEN AND HEARD. What I do know is that people can tell within a millisecond that I am every bit the writer I say I am.

By myself- an observer and recorder, like most writers are.

Which brings me to two awfulsome moments (thanks, Paul Gilmartin):

  1. My occupational therapist said that I couldn’t write the whole time. I had to do these worksheets (that she has never given me, so I have no idea what she’s talking about). I said, “would you mind if I sat at the computer and type? My wrist hurts too bad to hold a pen.” She told me that it uses exactly the same muscles to type as it does to write and handed me a golf pencil. I said, “this is total crap,” and I left, because I did not want to engage in a fight. Diana (roommate) said, “I was there and she was shitty to you.” Nice to have validation and to know that my roommate has my back.
  2. Mike (the Viet Nam vet in the wheelchair) told me he was leaving and I said, “give me a hug before you go.” We hugged and the orderly yelled “NO HUGGING!” I turned around and said, “I FORGOT!” He took exception to that. They’ll probably put me on Haldol for it (kidding, this is not Nurse Ratchett up in this bitch)

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