On Leaving the House

Pansy Patch Acrylic

Even these days, simply leaving the house can be the hardest damn thing.

I'm embarrassed to admit it to you. Especially since my town is safe and and free from the flooding and aftermath of a giant ass hurricane, and my brain is basically a rockstar lately (so i should be out frolicking joyously nonstop really), and i'm physically well, and a million other reasons...  

I guess, more specifically, i mean leave the neighborhood- distances more than 15 or so minutes away from home (so as not to exceed the amount of advance warning provided by my trusty and adorable seizure detection dog). I go on bike rides (gotta chancem now and then) and we walk around our neck of the woods every day, but save for hockey practices, a UU service and an aberrant dinner with friends, it's the extent of my social pursuits. Wah right? I miss my life in the boondocks where if the human company leaves some to be desired, we can walk 15 steps out of camp and consort with birds and marmots and deers and shit.

I hate to be a home-body, but about every few months or so somebody notices i'm not in a wheelchair or blind, so they'll give me grief about the dog. I know i have ADA mandate on my side, so there isn't much these people could do to me, but i fear the day someone hassles me and i wind up punching out their teeth. I know it's not their own fault if their mothers failed to instill manners and diplomacy into some of these people, but it's all i can do not to beat their ill-informed, tactless booties into the current century.

I'm perpetually awkward. I'm good friends with a few of the first-responders but since part of the department is volunteer-based there are seemingly hundreds of generally young firefighters and emt's to bump into around town. I just try to smile and wave and hope i didn't puke on their boots or do anything else embarrassing the last time they had to deal with me. Plus i have no idea which innocent bystanders have been on scene and witnessed the mutiny of my brain and the subsequent assault on my soul and body. I know it's paranoid and insane to even worry about, but it's kind of a hell of a first impression to overcome. I don't know if i'm socially equipped for that.

Most of all, however, I'm terrified if the ambulance is dispatched on my account, one of the whackjob, bad-apple, power-mongers is gonna be on call and the whole situation will turn into a nightmare of four-point restraints and having my face smashed into the concrete. Though they're overwhelmingly the minority of the people employed to respond to the scene of a medical call, I swear i have PTSD from the few useless (no, worse, injurious) imbeciles that are out there. 

I'm undecided as to whether or not to share the stories that led up to our current state of animosity here, (leaning on yes) but i really do hate the idea of talking smack about any emergency medical or law enforcement personnel because the overwhelming majority of them are truly caring, and professional. The bozos (and please forgive the emotionally-charged name-calling, but i think 'bozo' is being pretty generous here) who respond inappropriately by restraining and/or piling onto somebody who's been reported to have had a seizure, may be well-intended, but since my efforts at educating and filing complaints have been to no avail, i'm inclined to think not. I feel so vulnerable. 

Jerry Bear Jack-o-Lantern

So i stayed home and carved my pumpkin and jump-roped and played my guitar. Ha.

Also: 

Your heart is like a great river after a long spell of rain, spilling over its banks. All signposts that once stood on the ground are gone, inundated and carried away by that rush of water. And still the rain beats down on the surface of the river. Every time you see a flood like that on the news you tell yourself: That’s it. That’s my heart.

― Haruki Murakami

My heart's out to you, East Coasters.