Maximum Overdrive: Mortality Anxiety

Randy doesn’t like to talk about his health, but he told me I could write about this.

He had to have emergency surgery last Saturday night. One of those pesky organs that sometimes acts up and kills you. He was in bad shape for 3 days and has been home for 2 nights now. I can’t stop watching him sleep. I just want him to be okay.

Motherfucker is a bad ass, I can tell you that much. You know how we mostly complain that when our husband’s get sick, they’re toddlers? Randy has never been like that. He is stoic and so much not a complainer when he’s sick. I am definitely the cry baby in the family.

His surgery was over around 10:30 pm on Saturday. When I got back to the hospital the next morning, the nurse asked him if he had been in any pain during the night.

Randy: Yeah, a little.

Nurse: You didn’t press your pain pump even once?

Me: Dude. You are not hospitaling right.

I dug his pain pump from beside the bed and pressed the button. He could have been pressing it every 6 minutes. Every. Six. Minutes. He didn’t press it once. Although, he was confused about what was in it.

Randy: There’s just Tylenol in there.

Me: Ummm. No. That’s a morphine pump. Want me to press it again?

The pump looked like those buzzers they use on Jeopardy. I think he stopped being amused the by the 6th time I said “What is, where is my morphine?” as I pressed the button for him.

He hated the way it made him feel and just stopped using it by the evening after his surgery. I’ve convinced him to take his pain medicine a few times since he’s been home, just so he could sleep.

I have a new found respect for caretakers. Randy has nursed me through childbirth and 3 surgeries. I am not suggesting that it’s harder for the caretakers than it is the sick person, but it’s goddamn exhausting and terrifying to be on this side of the surgery.

Anyway, if you read my last post, then you know around Christmas was rough. I had no idea how much I had in store just a week later.

Randy and I had been discussing anxiety, specifically mortality anxiety. I told him it was funny he would bring that up because I had written a few posts, one after the other, about anxiety and one specifically had to do with mortality anxiety.

After spending 24 straight hours thinking that the love of my life might die, my mortality anxiety had died away. I think it knew it stood no chance against the terror I was feeling. If it had tried to act up, I would have burned that bitch down.

So, here it is. Maximum Overdrive. The post I wrote before my husband was down an organ.

—————————————————————————————————————

When my older son was 3 years old, his favorite movie was Maximum Overdrive.

Yes, I was a horrible mother.

My anxiety is in maximum overdrive right now. Super massive overdrive.

I am convinced I’m dying. Nothing I can do can dissuade my anxiety from reminding me near constantly that I’m dying. Sometimes it’s a whisper and sometimes it’s a scream.

I wish so badly I could just stop. Anxiety would be so much easier if I could just control the dial a little more.

Today, I had a stabbing pain in the back of my head. My sinuses have been wrecked for weeks and the weird weather just won’t give them a break. I know my headache was sinus pressure, Except it wasn’t. I am probably seconds away from an aneurysm.

Whenever I take a shower or make coffee or drive to work or hear a song I like, I think to myself “wonder if this is the last time I’ll do this?” I worry that the last thing I might eat will be something stupid like stale Doritos or that I’ll accidentally listen to a Barry Manilow song on the radio and that will be my last song just before my brain shatters.

This evening, after dinner, Randy and I were cleaning up and as I sprayed the stove with glass cleaner, I thought to myself “Wonder if this will be the last time I clean a stove top?” I mean, it probably was, since I have that aneurysm to worry about.

My anxiety decided to play that particular thought.

I would not gracefully slump to the floor. I’m not graceful. I fall down a lot. For fuck’s sake, not that long ago, I got cheese from a heated up frozen dinner stuck in my eyelashes. I can’t imagine that my final fall will be any less clumsy.

I’d probably bounce my head off the stove and then as I was falling, I would somehow get my arm stuck between the oven handle and the the oven door, so when I fell, the oven door would open. I would hit the ground, slam the door into my head and it would yank on the oven so hard that the crusty wire racks would fly forward and land on my twitching corpse.

You know. Or something like that.

The only thing my anxiety is waffling on is whether or not I’d feel it when I hit my head or if at that point, I’m already dead. I think my anxiety is leaning toward keeping me alive for a few minutes. Enough to feel some pain and confusion.

It has not been easy being me lately.

But then, as I moved from the stove top to the counter tops, I started thinking about that as a scene. That would be an awesome scene. I don’t know what the movie is about, but if the opening scene was some non-descript middle aged woman suddenly dying at her stove and then falls like that…well, that would be unexpected. And it would be cool if the soundtrack was The Detroit Cobras singing Putty In Your Hands.

I say that, because that is the song we were listening to when I was spraying the stove with glass cleaner.

I started thinking about the importance of music in movies and how it much I like stories and music and art where unexpected things are put together. Like shrimp and ice cream.

For the record, I have never had shrimp and ice cream.

Well, not together. Not shrimp ice cream. Of course I’ve had shrimp and ice cream.

I thought about the middle aged  woman who I just made die at a stove and decided that maybe she could live another day. I saw her sitting at a table and working on scrapbooks for her grandchildren. She has readers perched on the end of her nose and she is intent and precise. While she works, Beat On The Brat by The Ramones is playing in the background.

Which was next on the cleaning up the kitchen playlist.

I guess I’m going to make it through this day. I’m really hoping that is a trend that will last at least a few more decades. Until I can afford to be cryogenically sealed up with Walt Disney.

And now I feel a tiny bit serene. Thanks for listening. You probably don’t know it, but you guys talk me down all the time.

Also, I spelled “aneurysm” right the first time. I suck at spelling. Feeling kind of invincible right now. You know, other than I’m dying.

58 Thoughts.

  1. Anyone would be anxious under those circumstances, I think. But for Randy. He’s a bad-ass motherfucker. No joke. I can tolerate pain when I have no choice but I’m waiting for some doctor to stick a pain pump in me. Lookitmego!

    My medication has to work overtime to keep my anxiety at a barely manageable level sometimes. I can’t help it. I stay home lot where I’m safe from questions and comments. Then I post to Facebook looking for comments. Kind of fucked now that I think of it. Hmm. I must ponder.

    I am glad that it sounds as if things are going to knit themselves back together for you. I tend to believe that everything will be okay in the end. If they’re not, it’s not the end. Take care. I hope Randy won’t be pissed that I called him a motherfucker.

  2. I think being able to spell aneurysm first time (it took me two goes) is a dead (whoops!) cert that you have a long and fulfilling life ahead of you. I had a pethadine pump when I had shoulder surgery and the pethadine made me vomit so I had the choice of press and vomit or suck up the pain…….surgery sucks!! Hang in there chickie and all will be well soon as you sit rocking in your rocking chairs admiring the sunset and laughing at this blog post xx

  3. Maybe your death feelings were a subtle message from the world that something was coming in your life….ie: Randy’s surgery? Maybe that allowed you to deal with that anxiety first and then be there more fully for him? Either way, I hope that your mind and his body feel better today!

    • I’m still not doing to great. he’s feeling horrible today and I’m at work so my anxiety is singing right now. But I know it will get better. Thank you so much. 🙂

  4. First, right off the bat (picking up my pom-poms): “Randy, Randy, he’s our man! He kicks ass like no one can!!! YAY!!” 😀 So happy to hear that Randy’s surgery and recovery have a happy ending! I can personally attest to that overwhelming fear and helplessness that engulfs you when someone you love so much is down for the count. As you say, the anxiety can be overwhelming at times. Oddly enough, I felt no anxiety about myself at ALL when in the middle of the entire situation with my late husband. Now, however, three months after the fact, I feel the anxiety creeping out more and more, those tiny tentacles trying to reach around and get a firm grip on me. It SUCKS. Someone give me a smile and a hug, will ya? HAHA!
    The movie scenes—-PRICELESS. Although, you need to add a movie scene with the melted cheese stuck to the eyelashes story. Years ago, this friend of mine wanted to go light a candle at the local Catholic church, so I told her I’d go with her if she wanted company. Gorgeous Shrine of the Virgin Mary, outdoors with marble steps and water fountains on each side of the steps. Well, I was wearing flip-flops (it’s the state shoe of Florida, so it’s the law—haha!) and there was water on the steps. Marble plus water, mixed with flip-flops? Not so good. I turned to leave with her and my foot slid right out from under me and I was actually airborne. My life began flashing before my eyes as I flew up into the air and landed on my back right on the steps. My wrist was hurting, by back hurt and all I could think of was, “Oh, shit. Paul is working at the fire department today. They are going to get a call for an injured woman, pushed down the stairs by the Virgin Mary and it’s going to be his WIFE.” HAHA! And my poor friend was freaking out. She didn’t know what to do! Fortunately, other than being a bit sore and having a soaking wet ass from landing in the water all over the steps, I was able to get up and go home under my own power. But, it certainly got me thinking about how, out of the blue, anything can happen! Hmmmm, wonder what song would accompany MY movie scene? Amazing Grace? 🙂

    • Terri Lee!! Over here!
      *BIG SMILE*
      *hug*
      *hug*
      *hug*
      (I believe in overdoing it)
      Your song is going to be, “Don’t Fear the Reaper.”
      With, ‘…more cowbell…’
      🙂
      Flip flops are going to be the death of me, too. But, only because when I’m slapping someone with them, it just makes them madder and doesn’t inflict enough damage to give me time to run.

      • Lisa K., that’s a riot! I actually have Don’t Fear The Reaper on my iPad playlist, cowbell intensive! HAHA!!! By the way, you give the best hugs! Jas anyone ever told you that? 😀

        You’ve actually discovered the official use of flip-flops in the state of Florida. Slapping the shit out of people who cut in front of you in the deli line. Or ANY line, for that matter! Nothin’ like a good, “THWAP, THWAP, THWAP!!!” in rapid succession to make them straighten up and fly right! (Don’t run IN the flip-flops. You will never outrun anyone that way—only end up face planting.)

  5. I think I might be dead or something as all my post disappear
    Hope this one gets to you as I just want to let you know I’m so sorry you and randy are going throw this shit !!
    But somehow I know you will be ok
    love x prayers coming at you x

    • OMG..I am so sorry! Yes..I see this one. I would have my IT dept look into it..but he’s recovering. 🙂

      It’s been rough, I am hoping he shows some improvement this weekend.

  6. Wow. That was really wild reading those posts back to back. I feel like I should give my husband more credit now for how many times he’s been so scared while I’ve been in the hospital with one crisis or another. (The first time was an emergency C-section when the assisting doctor, trying to be funny, said “This is my first time doing this. Hope it goes well.” My husband almost decked him and yelled “That’s my wife and baby in there!” They made up afterward.)

    I’ve always thought he was trying to hog attention for *my* health crisis. I’m such a bitch! What you went through with Randy sounds horrible, Michelle. I’m glad you’re doing better with your own mortality related anxiety, and am so happy that Randy is such a badass.

  7. Oh so much… so much. I am SO sorry you have been suffering so much, my friend. You really have more strength than you know. One thing I know to be true? You are a SURVIVOR. That may be the one word you can cling to, always. <3

    Randy is amazing. My hubs is the opposite! You guys are such a perfect balance together… I love that.

  8. Crap, I’m crying with you one day and laughing my ass off the next. Isn’t deep seated psychosis the best?

    Poor Randy! Poor Poor YOU!! But the image of you with that morphine pump hovering over Randy…demanding he give the right answer… Fuckin’ ‘eh…

    I wish I was married to you.

    My song is going to be, “Ding Dong the Witch is Dead.” I believe in sticking with the classics.

    Anyerysm…anuerysm…aynuerism…nope.

    You’re a better woman than me. Too bad you’re dying.

    🙂

    • Thank God Michelle didn’t get carried away with the pump, “Let’s make this a TRUE Daily Double, Alex!” (Of course, I suppose you don’t use your signaling button for those! HAHA!)

      So, do you own the really cool black and white striped stockings. too? Or just the ruby slippers? 😉

      I’m going to start spelling it “anus rhythm”. That will make them all wonder. Or commit me. Oh, what do I know—I’m the woman the Virgin Mary is pissed off at!

  9. Boy – Randy & I – same pain threshold – I wouldn’t use the Morphine drip either – hate the effects. It might sound warped, but I had those same anxieties several years ago (about death, etc.) and I nagged my husband to finally start paying for the cemetery and accoutrements and I actually started feeling better (except for what it all costs). Knowing that everything that I would panic about in the future was settled actually took some of the fear out of my life. Now, I’m looking at my stove warily because I have caught my sleeve in the handle before! Hoping Randy recovers well and soon, and you find a little peace (yay Xanax)!

  10. You have been through the wringer. I am so sorry. I’ve been on that side of the bed many times myself and I understand exactly what you went through. Ugh. Delete, delete, delete. Here’s to this being the last time for both of you. Onwards and upwards for 2016!

  11. Hope Randy is feeling a lot better today!
    Yeah, I got off the Tramadol pretty fast as it was way too nice to be a good thing.

    A Barry Manilow song as the last thing you hear….now that is a seriously scary thought!
    🙂
    I often think I’m not long for this planet and my brain has some fairly interesting and equally morbid ideas about how I’ll scuttle off this mortal coil.

    Brains are weird and not to be trusted!

  12. The mere thought of the big D sends me instant panic attacks, so I basically had to read the second half of your post while singinging “lalalala I’m not listening!” to get through it. I agree, however that would be an amazing start to a movie. Sounds like you have some screenplay writing in your future.

  13. I get that Randy doesn’t want anyone making a big deal out of what he went through so please don’t tell him that I’m fucking thrilled he came through his surgery just fine, and that it’s cool he stopped using his morphine. Opiates can cause constipation, you know, which is one of those sick jokes biology plays on us. When you’ve got a surgical scar healing the last thing you want to do is strain to take a dump. Even if the drugs are taking the edge off the pain I’d be afraid of busting a stitch.
    Remember what happened to Elvis.
    And it’s funny to me that you turn your imagined collapse into something cinematic. It’s like an old film of some guy slipping on a banana peel, isn’t it? For him it’s tragedy, but for the audience it’s comedy gold. That is if you think someone slipping on a banana peel is funny, which I don’t. It just makes me think what sadistic bastards old timey audiences were. But I do now want to watch a bunch of Chaplin films with Road To Ruin as the soundtrack.

    And for the record when your 3-year old’s favorite movie is Maximum Overdrive that doesn’t make you a terrible mother. That makes you an awesome mother.

    • Okay…yes…let’s go with awesome. I like awesome more than terrible.

      Yeah, that whole painkiller thing is a bitch.

      I don’t always turn that shit into scenes, but sometimes..it at least distracts me

  14. There you go again, ripping my heart out and then making me laugh hysterically. It’s cathartic, though.
    The few times I have fallen, (yes, I did go outside in winter wearing flip flops on an icy sidewalk) it was scary, but strangely enough when I stood up, I felt great. Arthritis makes the joints tighten up, but falling backwards across a wet lawn gets them moving the rest of the day. Who knew? Don’t try this at home.

  15. I have had period anxieties like this, actually, and it sometimes prevents me from making timely doctor appointments (go figure). This is a discussion my BFF and I had all the time, she telling me to go and me saying “soon.” She died two weeks ago and with her memory prodding me, I made two doctor appointments I’d been putting off. Whatever works.

    I hope all is well with Randy (and you!).

    • I am so SO very sorry for your loss. How painful for you. I am glad you’re making your appointments, though. I am glad about that.

      Thank you..yeah, I think we’re okay. Was worried today that we would end back up in the ER but he seems better now.

  16. I too play the whatifIDie NOW? game while driving to work. I recently spent 2 hours agonizing over whether to grow out my white hair – i shouldve been sleeping but it seemed so fkg urgent. Apparently when my daughter was 8 or 9 she watched Family Guy almost every day… where was I? According to her, drinking wine in the kitchen. Oops. When my mom had surgery i had to leave post-op ICU to sit in the stairwell shaking & trying not to vomit – she’s my only mama! Honestly, we’re doing the best we can, motherfuckers. And Randy, you are old school, dude. I pictured you in Eastwood poncho & hat & a nasty little smoke between clenched teeth in the hospital bed. (You probably hate Clint or Cluck, as i call him). I wouldve been hitting that jeopardy buzzer like a fkn genius. M, you shall endure, you shall survive, Randy will buy you donuts again…just stay away from the fucking stove, woman!

  17. It’s funny, I’m actually facing some Serious Health Business myself and I’m….I don’t want to say “serene”, but I’m fairly calm. Because there isn’t anything I can do about it right now (Important Appointment is upcoming). And intellectually I know that and it seems to have seeped into my emotional awareness well enough.

    But. I don’t have anxiety in the sense you discuss, so I am an entirely different creature. I’m very glad Randy is all right. Organs are a bitch, aren’t they?

    • I hope that you are soon on your way to health, my friend.

      Yes, organs can be assholes. Complete assholes. Not actual assholes. I don’t think assholes are an organ, are they?

  18. Get well wishes and speedy recovery to your husband. I agree with you, it is easier being the sick one than the caregiver. I didn’t like morphine either and when the doctor asked me about it I told her I just wanted to go home and I knew I could be released sooner if I didn’t pump up the morphine.
    The” is this the last time ” scenario, I find a road I don’t want to go down, but at least you had clean counter tops and stove top!

  19. I too often think about my own mortality, and can also be a bit of a klutz.
    But my tendency to ponder how I can die in this situation or that is how I identify hazards and avoid them, keeping me relatively unscathed these many years. In fact it’s been part of my job description for the last five years as a trucker in the oilpatch.
    The only time anxiety kicks in is when I start thinking about dying, and when people clear out my stuff they find that classic nudie mag in my dresser or the Final Fantasy replica sword in the closet. Awkward.

  20. It’s eerie how our mortal anxiety can suddenly evaporate when dealing with an actual life-or-death situation. I’ve had it happen to me a bunch of times. Those exact brain chemicals that give us the useless panic during down times are invaluable deliverers of clear headedness when disaster strikes. It makes me think that really we are just super heroes who ought to be battling evil at all times, because that’s when we are at our best.

    Sucks to hear about Randy though. Please tell him I hope he gets better soon and that he is a trooper (so are you, of course). Lots of love for you both!

  21. Best wishes and I will say a little prayer for your hubby. He sounds like a bad ass mutter but I think your one tough cookie too. Aneurysm is a tough word, I would sound like an idiot if it wasn’t for spell check!

  22. So glad that Randy is recovering well but I totally hear you about that situation. Last year when Dad was in hospital we got a call at 8pm saying “If they don’t operate, I’ll die but if they do operate I may die anyway” – saying goodbye to him when he went into theater was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.
    Now I want to wrap him in cotton wool but that won’t happen – although it’s definitely needed. He fell on Friday afternoon and hit his head on the concrete – he’s OK but I worry about whether this was just a once off as he says it is because of where he was walking or whether it’s something else to worry about !!!!
    Have the best Sunday night – only 4 sleeps until we leave!!! xox

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