A story about pie and stupid diseases

Nobody expects their chicken pot pie to be interrupted with the sudden need to go to the emergency room, so you can imagine my surprise when that’s exactly what happened to me a couple of weeks ago.

Three hours, two pills and an EKG later, I’m the lucky winner of an acid reflux disease called GERD and what my doctor THINKS is a severe case of anxiety. “Thinks” because I have a few symptoms that suggest I might have something much, much worse, but until I can afford the medical insurance I’ll need for routine trips to the doctor, anxiety it is. (AND HERE’S THE PART WHERE I YELL ABOUT THE $2,500 BILL I GOT IN THE MAIL FOR EMERGENCY SERVICES, WHICH, LET ME TELL YOU, ISN’T HELPING MY ANXIETY ONE BIT.)

The day after my super fun trip to the hospital I had to hop on a plane to Los Angeles for a content management conference—not the best idea ever, but the company I was covering had paid for me to go and it would’ve been pretty shitty to call them up just a day before and cancel on account of my crazy. So I went. And I wrote. And I contracted pink eye. And I didn’t sleep for 48 hours. And I spent most of my free time alone in my hotel, rocking back and forth in the shower with a hot cup of caffeine free tea (because of the GERD), wishing I had filled my new prescriptions before traveling hundreds of miles away from home.

I realize how crazy I sound right now, I really do. If you’re an employer, a potential employer, a lover, a family member, or hell – GAS will probably be around forever! – my future kid (MOMMY TOLD YOU NOT TO GOOGLE HER), I promise I’m not batshit out of my mind. I just think and worry about oh, at least a thousand things per minute, and I suppose this is my body’s way of finally telling me that that shit ain’t cool.

Bear with me, this story just reminded me of another story. Really quick: my sense of direction is shit. And when I say that, I mean that if someone painted over my street sign with a different name, I’d probably drive up and down the cross street looking for my turn. Forever. Ergo, the first time I drove with a driving instructor we got completely lost when the session was over and it was time to get back to my house. We drove aimlessly for a good hour, during which night fell and it started raining. Did I mention this was my first time driving ever? Picture it: tiny hopeless 17-year-old drives for the first time in the dark during a storm while her instructor sits beside her, eating Cheetos and quietly cursing.

Actually, my instructor turned to me and said something along the lines of, “Hey, do you realize how well you’re doing given the circumstances?”

And that’s when I calmed down and found my house. Similarly, I got through my first lone business trip with all my limbs and a new understanding of records management to boot. And even if nobody else is proud of me for it, I sure as hell am.

Here’s the part where I tell you I’ve been making moves to make sure 2010 is not a wet blanket, because despite all the problems that’ve already gone down since the ball dropped, my outlook for the next twelve months is strangely positive. I mean, to tell you the truth I kinda fell off the whole this-is-my-year bandwagon, because really, it doesn’t matter if it’s January or June or December. Every day is a good day to pick up the slack or be better or try something new. It just so happens that my motivational fairy showed up this month.

Stay tuned for news about my activities. For now, I’ll just tell you they involve money and travel and shoulder kisses. And perhaps the occasional heart palpitation.