Save Things for Later

.

There was a knock on the door.

I sit up. It was a soft knock and I don't usually answer soft knocks against my door. Especially at night. But today, it was morning so it had to be someone...right? I get up, get dressed and unlock the door, peering out to see Dr. G. She stood there, lean as a rail, with long straight, dark hair and concerned features. I had an appointment with her on Wednesday. Something had come up and she would not be able to make it, so she asked if I would come down today for my appointment. Was the elevator working? No. I shook my head. I'd dealt with the stairs for two days straight. I was in pain on Sunday to where I had to take a pain killer. There was no way in hell that I was going to play with the stairs again. No. Maybe tomorrow. She nodded. Yes, the elevators might be back in operation by then. Dr. G. smiled, she would see me tomorrow.

I close the door and chill. There was no way that I was leaving my room to tackle those stairs today. That's just the way that it was. I still had no energy. Nada. I wanted to get so much done and there was just so little energy to do it in. Other than eat. Eating I could do. I could get up and cook something, push it into the hole in my face, but I couldn't type a blog post. Who is this man that I have become? What have I become? I have to go back to my hyper state, or all will perish.

That's what I thought the next day when the sun rose and I was once again watching episodes of Grey's Anatomy.  Today I had a lot to do and going to see Dr. G was one of them. She would be expecting me to come down and although I languished around the room all morning long, I knew I had to make myself move, to force myself up onto my feet, to get a move going today. The elevator was working at the time and I went downstairs and saw Dr. G. We talked, I got my meds and headed off to Duane Reade to drop them off, then did the rest of my errands.

On returning home, I get to the elevator which goes down past the first floor to the concourse level...or basement, and then back up with the superintendent and one of the janitors. The super steps off and turns around to stick an 'out of order' sign on the elevator. What? You've got to be shitting me! I exclaim. He turns to look at me, "What? Do you want to get stuck in the elevator?" I look at him, then look at the janitor who was still standing on the elevator. Where is he going? "He's going upstairs to work on the floor," the super replies hotly. Shit then, I'm going up with him. Fuck walking up the stairs. I walk into the elevator with the super shouting behind me. "Don't start whining if the elevator stops between floors with you inside!" Don't worry about me, you'd better be telling that to your janitor, because he'll be stuck in here with me.

We ride up. The Janitor gets off at the sixth floor and under his breath mutters, "Good Luck." I nod. Good luck my ass. I ride the elevator up to the eighth floor and get off. I'll be damned if I'm going to walk up these flights of stairs another fucking day. Just the thought of it makes me cringe. I fucking hate the stairs. They just bleed life from your very bones.

I'm not saying that I don't need the exercise, I just don't need to have it foisted upon me just to deal with the outside world. I just don't want it to bother with when I want to go home. I just wanted to go out and run a few errands, not climb mount Everest.

I get home, shut the door and take off my clothes. I'm done with the outside world for the next forty eight hours, or until the rest of my food runs out. I don't know or care which.

Hobobob