Waiting for the shoe

I have this thing about karma. Boiled down, I could explain it as the worse my day, week, life gets, the nicer I am. I figure I must have done something really, really bad to warrant a smack down from the universe.

The funny thing is that I've never really thought about the inverse. I've never really thought about the karma of good things happening. When all is right with the world, my second little theory kicks in, Newton's Third Law: For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. For all the good in my life, something bad will happen.

It's a muddled place, my mind. If something bad happens, I probably did something to deserve. If something good happens, something bad is sure to follow. Norwegians aren't exactly known for fatalism, nor are kids from Ohio, but thus is my lot in life.

Over the past couple of days, people have been really nice to me. Exceedingly nice. Exceptionally, excessively, extraordinarily nice. At happy hour Friday night, people told me that they liked me. They really, really liked me. Or my writing, at least, which embarrassed me immensely while making my head and my heart swell with pride. It wasn't just the words; it was the source. I talked to several very talented writers. I respected them, their words, and their opinions deeply.

Not only that, they humored the rather drunk girl in me. I had stopped for painkillers on the way to the bar, suffering rather seriously from the effects of my on-again, off-again infection. I could barely stand up straight. The painkillers killed the pain and accelerated the alcohol – I enjoyed myself immensely.

Compliments aside, I had fun. I spent time with friends old and new and met people whose words I'd read many times over the past weeks, months, years for some of them.

I should have awoken with a hangover. I should have crawled out of bed with a bit of guilt, an emotional hangover to tip the edge of my tippling. A headache. A stomachache. Low feelings of self worth. But strangely enough, I was fine, crippled by kidney pain, but otherwise fine, as I showered, dressed, baked a couple dozen cookies.

I knew something was decidedly wrong when I found myself perusing analgesics and squatting in a men's room without a lock at a gas station in Maryland on my way to the woods. I was supposed to stay over night. I was supposed to cabin it with members of my book club, without electricity, without plumbing. The weekend was prime – clear, sunny warm – but my body rejected the idea. I pulled into the site after a sleepy, three-hour drive, full of remorse.

"I don't think I can stay," I lamented.

"I'm surprised that you came," offered more than one of my friends. "I would have skipped it."

People hovered around me, lavishing attention and food on me. Drinks. Antibiotics. (Seriously. I received a packed of antibiotics.) I sat in my comfy chair with a pillow behind me, a dog in my lap, and enjoyed several conversations at a time, not the least of which revolved around the book that the entire club liked, a rare occurrence in general and a first for a selection from me. We ate s'mores – actual candy sandwiches - snapped pictures, joked, talked and enjoyed the sun.

When passing hikers noted a flat on my car, one of the guys in the club changed it for me, talking me through the process as he jacked up my Jeep (risking his life given the awkward offroad parking). I didn't even know where to find the jack, much less how to use it.

"I think you should go home, call your doctor and go to bed," instructed one woman after resting a hand upon my forehead. "You have a fever."

One couple offered to lead or follow me on the three-hour drive. Another woman offered to keep me company and a third offered to drive my car while her brother took hers.

"I'll be fine," I said. "Really. I had a low-grade fever for a year once. I'll be fine."

With shakes of their heads, I was bundled into my car, given water bottles and pain killers, phone numbers to call in case of emergency. I felt loved. I felt anxious. I just waited for the other shoe to drop. People were being so nice. It couldn't last. For every action…

I thought I lost my phone in the woods. I was happy. I could handle losing another phone if that was the way I'd have to pay for all the kindness, but as it turns out, I was just sitting on it. I worried and waited, wondering how it would end, what might go wrong.

Granted, I felt like death. My body fought an ongoing battle with a mystery ailment. I slept too little. I got a flat. Maybe the shoe did drop. Maybe I just didn't notice in my happiness.


Tag: Sickness Friends Happy Hour