My top lip has a permanent red scar from the mean cold-sore of 2007. I'd like to thank my dear sister for this, as it was her bridezilla tendencies who created a very stressful three days for me during a bridesmaid dress expedition. Today, I awoke to find a very angry red scar... and very quickly a bubble... then the pain... and the itch. Good fucking morning, bitches!
I don't even know how I got this asshole of a virus anyway. I only wish it was through kissing some hot bad-boy in a darkened pub corner. I suspect that it may have come from a poorly washed cup, utilised by my bastard pig of an ex-boss, during my part time job, about seven years ago. Either that, or being the born worrier that I am, the virus sidled up next to me and just decided my body was where it wanted to be. I feel that both of these hypotheses are equally possible. (Hypothesis - now there's a word I know I haven't used since 2009).
So, I woke up with a cold sore today, and bad hair... and just a plain old bad attitude. I always feel more vulnerable to general worldly shittiness when I feel ugly - like there's a chink in my armour, and thanks to the cold sore - everyone could see the chink. This provides almost perfect proof that attitude and outlook determine so much. See, it's interesting how I know this, but yet I am still unable to shake the pissy, frustrated attitude I find myself wearing more frequently these days.
Then, add a family drama. Today my sister had to take my five-month old niece to see a paediatric therapist (who belongs to my department at work), for follow up on a fairly benign issue. I hear that at this appointment the stupid, old, bitter therapist tells my sister some horrific things about the state of my nieces head - introducing words like 'brain surgery' and 'never in all my years'. At first I was a mixture of concern and anger - and then selfish thoughts, like why me... I can't take any more today. Then I got upset because I knew this 'news' had sent my sister into an episode of tears and poorly informed google-ing. So, I was trying to calmly talk it out with a co worker who I trust, but then of course, my voice starts to shake and I get teary - because in my heart I'm fearing for my niece, but in my head I'm wondering how someone with half a centuries experience can be so fucking insensitive with a new mother.
I just get so scared when I think about anything being wrong with my nephew or niece. Like a parent, I want to protect them from bad things. I don't want to see them disadvantaged, hurt or sick. I am genuinely scared, and they aren't even my kids. I also can't help but feel a little responsible; because of where I work, I encouraged my sister to seek out assistance with the initial problem... and now she's just in a state of utter panic, because of what my co-worker said to her.
There are just some days where I wish I could melt into the walls unseen - remove myself from waking life and just be deleted for a little while. I wish I could have done this today, and taken my lovely niece with me.
I am so worried about all of this; I hope that it all turns out to be nothing - but that giant neon 'WHAT IF' hangs above my head. I guess all I can do is hope, and pray and love the shit out of the people I care about, while I can - because the scariest truth of them all is that I can't control anything.