It seemed to start with my mother-in-law who was not feeling well at all late last week, then spread to my husband on Saturday. I thought I'd escaped it when I was feeling fine on Monday, and John started to finally feel human again. We felt so well that we went out to lunch at Cracker Barrel, and then the ride home happened. As we pulled of 395 and were only about a mile from home, I got "the feeling" -- tunnel vision, sweating, stars, and I knew it was about to hit. John had to pull over and a line of southern Massachusetts traffic watched me lose my lunch out the car door. Suffice it to say, I won't be eating hashbrown casserole again anytime soon, because it tastes exactly the same coming back up.
I knew it was the beginning of feeling like crap for a few days, but had that "now that it's over, I feel a little better" feeling starting to set in. Temporarily.
We pulled into the driveway and I ran for the house, and lost the rest of my lunch. My husband grabbed me a pair of pajamas to change into, and as I went to grab a bottle of water, he walked back into the kitchen with an odd look on his face and something wrapped in a paper towel.
*It's right here that I have to stop for a second and say that in case you don't know me personally, you should know that I always have and always will fear two things -- rodents and reptiles. I think it's bizarre that people (who shall henceforth be referred to as "weirdos") have these as pets, and it will never be allowed in my house. If my son picks them up outside, there's nothing I can do, but we are not weirdos and thus, they will never be allowed VOLUNTARILY in my house.*
I ask what's wrong, he says nothing. John, what's wrong? Nothing. I can tell from your face, something is wrong. Are you OK? Do you feel OK? Yeah, I'm fine, he says. I feel fine. Well, what's wrong? Nothing, I just found cat puke in the living room.
I'm thinking, so? We've had three cats for two years and like humans, they occasionally puke.
Then it sets in... wait... what... ELSE did you find?
I ask -- was there an animal IN the puke?
...Yeah.
What was it?
...A kind you don't like.
For some reason, I immediately assumed it was one of the rodent version. I immediately started bawling my eyes out (please know I was weak and feeling like crap at the time) and telling him that now we have to move because I can't live in a house with this and I don't want it around the baby, and that's disgusting and what are we going to do?
He says Amy, it was one. It was VERY little. Don't worry. I say, if there was ONE, there are more, and I can't deal with that. That means there are BABY versions around here. He says Amy, they don't travel in packs. It's fine. This was a loner, and they don't carry diseases.
I look at him and ask... wait, what was it?
He says, a snake.
THIS IS WHERE I EFFING LOSE IT.
Since I was a little kid, I have had at least one dream about snakes every week. I have horrible, horrible dreams, despite never actually having had a bad experience (or any experience until now) with an actual snake. But that's OK. The bad dreams were enough.
I fly into the bathroom, fucking panicking. I felt creeped out of my skin completely. I come out slamming things, as if I have someone to be mad at -- FUCKING MOTHER NATURE I WILL END YOU -- and slamming my bathroom door will make everything better. I'm screaming, mostly because I have been forced to confront and LIVE WITH my worst fear and there is nothing I can do about it, but I am so afraid that maybe if I just keep screaming it will give me something I can control. So John
Now, I know I asked. I know I begged, but I really wish he had lied.
I wish it had been like the Christmas Day night when John, me, my sister and her husband Sam were on our way to visit our grandmother and *accidentally* ran over an already-dead deer on her road in my sister's mini-van. The animal lovers we were raised to be, my sister was practically in tears at the thought that she had caused this creature further pain (trust me, it was long gone) AND ON THE DAY OF THE BABY JESUS' BIRTH NONETHELESS. We pulled into my grandmother's driveway and the guys said they'd check, but they were sure it hadn't done any damage. Sam reached underneath the car and pulled his hand out, covered in mud. He said to Chrissy, see? It's OK. It's just dirt. Only later did he and John pull me aside to tell me that the "mud" was actually blood, and that they had to spend a little time un-deering certain spots of the undercarriage and bumper in an effort to make her car look a little more like a mini-van and a little less like a murder scene. I kept it from her too -- LIKE THEY ASKED ME TO, SEE GUYS I AM TRUSTWORTHY -- until Chrissy said Sam had told her the truth a few weeks later. I wanted it to be THAT kind of lie.
Instead, I'm convinced I've been seeing wild animals all over my house. John says that what he picked up was the size of a worm, and he's pretty sure it got in when I left the door to our sunporch open to enjoy the weather the night before while I was cooking. I am now also terrified to open that door. I considered going out to grab a water today, then thought, nah, I don't need it THAT badly. I'm afraid to put anything on the floor for fear I'll reach down and find a slithery little enemy. I took a shower a little while ago and was convinced I saw something jump in the room with me. It's that bad. Or perhaps that's the two days of barf-induced hunger strike talking.
So, talk to me. What are your fears? What's that one thing that causes you to just freak the eff out like a little kid?
And if you're afraid of deer blood... don't worry. It's just mud.
