At 6:30 in the morning, I was somewhere between a memory and a dream, ala Tom Petty from You Don’t Know How it Feels. I was imprinting the feelings from getting the highest score on DWTS in dreamland. It was so real. I was dancing the Tango with some hottie. Dad doesn't have to worry. It was strictly professional. I wouldn’t have embarrassed you, Dad, or Morgan either. I was that good. Nothing like the way I really am. Sort of like Elaine from Seinfeld. Remember the episode where she danced at the office party where she looked like a spaz case. That’s how I really dance. But in my dream, I was so good.
At 7:30, I was almost ready to hit the road. I only had to put on my zebra necklace and that was it. It had been a fixture around my neck since Morgan and I bought it at Dulles Town Center. It was right after we said goodbye to you at the Funeral home. Your sentimental sister wanted something to bond the three of us. We decided on zebra pendants engraved with the date 3/8/2010. I thought it was fastened after I put it on. I even tugged it for good measure. Just to be sure.
At 8:15, I was driving to the office, guzzling a Diet Mountain Dew, and chewing Dentyne. Autumn leaves were falling from the trees. I slowed down a couple of times on Fairfax County Parkway because I thought the leaves were butterflies, but they weren’t. I frowned but soothed myself by saying “they’ll be back next Spring.” I decided to appreciate the leaves and how beautiful they were with the sun streaming through the trees -- almost like it was casting a magical spell on all those who noticed. That’s when I wrote the first draft of the next D Day Minus blog post in my head. It’s when I dropped you and Katie off at Dulles when you started the first trial. It was bittersweet for me, because I wanted to go, but knew it wasn’t my turn. I promised to finalize the entry after work and my date with Beto for Zumba. I was a little hungry and debated whether to pick up an Egg McMuffin from Mickey Dees. I decided, not! I felt fat and my stomach kept flicking my innards like a rubberband. It sort of hurt, but I didn’t think it was a big deal. Besides, I was excited to get into work so I could be distracted figuring out how to tame Excel to my latest whim. First on my list was thermometer charts.
At 9:10, I was doubled over in pain and couldn’t move. Repositioning myself at my computer and attempting the bathroom route only made it worse. Ten minutes before I was instant messaging and emailing with a distracted vengeance and having fun doing it. I called Dad on his cell and told him I was going home. "Something isn’t right. But, I think I'll be fine. Go, go to work. I think I'll be able to drive. I'll call if things get worse." That's what I said.
At 10:10, I changed from work clothes to yoga pants. The chain that anchored my zebra pendant fell to the carpet. I panicked because I lost my zebra. Between the waves of pain, I searched for my zebra--distracting myself, with the R.E.M.’s song, Losing my Religion. Flashbacks to you and your chain of pain through your cancer journey started bombarded my brain. And I wondered what it all meant.
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