This is not an understanding I was hoping to come by, but well, most of what you really learn in life isn't stuff you really wanted to know, so ... hooray?
- She drank because she was in pain and Dr. Glenlivet made the pain go away.
- She took pills because she was freaked out about a.
I realized today I have a lot in common with her. I'm in pain a lot and I think of red wine as the #1 medication I have at my disposal. Seriously, and look, I'm not admitting to alcoholism here. While I worry about becoming an alcoholic pretty-much constantly, because I inherited a predisposition to alcoholism from her and I'm OCD, I don't think I'm there, yet.
In my defense, my reasons for thinking of red wine as medicine is based on medical facts and my own personal logic.
Q: What kind of stuff has caused me distress in the last few years?
A: Stomach stuff and spleen stuff.
Q: What kind of stomach stuff?
A: Food allergy and intolerances and food poisoning.
Q: What kind of spleen stuff?
A: It got really big and tried to take over my abdomen and Dr. Jones tore it from me like Caesar from the womb. I lived. Caesar (my spleen) died. Now, I'm more likely than someone with a spleen to get really sick from bacterial infections, like salmonella.
Q: What kind of medicinal qualities does red wine have?
A: Kills bad bacteria; doesn't kill good bacteria. Has anti-inflammatory effect. Calms the nerves. (Also good for the heart, but my heart is strong, like bull!, so I don't care about that.)
So, now, when I think I have eaten something bad, like today, and my gut starts to churn and I feel (um, I think the technical term is) "barfy," I reach for a glass of that most delish of bacteria killers, Malbec, in doses of roughly 250 ml a pop. And if I think I might have eaten something I'm allergic to, yep, same medicine, because the anti-inflammatory stuff could, theoretically, prevent my immune system from going kablooey.
The point (and title) of this blog was supposed to have something to do with me mum. I guess I've felt like I'm being punished by her since she died. I even entertained the idea that she might have been possessing me once. I guess the crazy thought goes something like: "I should have been a better daughter. I never had compassion for her. So she gave me problems like hers so I would." Well, now I do. So, if there was anything to that crazy thought of mine, I would hope that that she could shuffle off my mortal coil, or if she's going to stick around, at least start *helping* me out a little instead of fucking with me to teach me a lesson. Something like Dennis the ghost who lived with Cordelia on Angel. She could make me toast so I get to work on time. You know, that sort of thing.
Consider the lesson learned, Mommy Dearest. I will not use wire hangers and I will always know that you did the things you did because it was the best you could do.
