The Bloody Doors Off

Hey look, a title that may actually tie into the blog post.

It started small, as most panic attacks do.

I couldn’t find my water glass.

It ended with me standing in the bathroom, pants around my ankles.

Right. From the beginning then.

So I’ve still got the … thing on the underside of my tongue. (I refuse to believe it’s a cyst until I have a proper diagnosis, hopefully next week.) There’s a near-constant dull ache. At times it makes concentration difficult. Even swallowing liquid can sometimes be painful.

And I was thirsty.

So I got up from the hutch which I’ve claimed as my computer space at the cottage.

Sidebar: I haven’t written about the cottage yet. lIt’s quite lovely. The main area is wood, it’s got a sun deck out back (which I imagine would be lovely in warmer weather). Because it’s lake-adjacent, the owners/management have supplied a; water cooler with three jugs of water. I took Auggie for a walk in the snow this afternoon. It was very tranquil.

Water.

I’m a firm believer in rinsing and reusing glasses and mugs. Only I couldn’t find it. Marlo suggested that I just take a new tumbler from the cabinet, which makes complete sense for ninety-nine point nine of the human population. (The data regarding the bonobos is still being parsed.) I, of course, belong to that elusive point one percent that refuses to follow such cultural norms. So I reach to the right side of the hutch to retrieve my prize.

Only it’s not there.

No worries, I’m sure I put it on the coffee table. Nope, that’s our friend Maddy’s. I protest, but she is insistent. Well, there aren’t many places it could be, after all none of us has gone downstairs — not true, the boy chose to wisely get away from us earlier to play on his Switch with online friends — so I know the glass isn’t down there.

The bedside table.

Makes sense. I took an nap earlier, and I always have a cup there in case I get thirsty. I get to the bedroom and nope, not there.

I’m now very confused. And that leads to the beginnings of my anxiety attack. Not because I’ve misplaced a glass, c’mon you can get those for a buck at Dollarama, but because I can’t remember where the hell I put it. And I start thinking about other times in recent memory where my, uh, memory has failed me.

And that. That launches a full-blown panic episode. Which branches off like a Marvel Universe variant timeline. (The geeks will get that reference.) Because, you see, twelve hours ago I was intensely afraid that I had Covid. I’d had nausea and vomiting from Sunday night through Monday afternoon. The CDC lists these symptoms. I took their online quiz. It said to get tested immediately.

You know what else is a symptom of nausea and vomiting?

Food poisoning.

So yeah, I most likely had food poisoning, because it went away after I took the aforementioned nap.

But, you may ask, how does that lead to me, pantsed in the bathroom? Okay, maybe you didn’t ask, but I’m gonna tell you anyway.

I had to go to the bathroom. (Occam’s razor.) Which is where I found the errant glass.

But that panic attack hadn’t ceased. Oh no, it was in full bloom. We’re talking nonsensical shit too. It bordered on paranoia. I’m not proud of where my brain went. I won’t discuss it in this post; quite frankly, it was most likely generated by Harold, who has been mercifully quiet of late.

I think I sat there for ten minutes. At least it felt like ten minutes. And really, I only needed two to don my ablutions. (Please tell me I used that word correctly.) It finally sank in that I was done and needed to get up. That took another minute to achieve. I pulled up my boxer briefs (who had that in the betting pool?) and froze. Because that’s happened before. I literally freeze up. Immobile. My last depressive episode saw that occur several times. I initially thought it was triggered by the lithium, but it came back tonight.

Thus began the great debate of December 27, 2021. Do I decide to take them off and put on my sleepwear? That lasted a few minutes. At least it felt like minutes.

So I eventually came unstuck and made my to the bedroom to change. And while I’m here, I thought, I might as well take my pills.

Which I needed water for.

Only I’d forgotten the glass in the bathroom.