The Hole Within

CHAPTER 59

Days passed, weeks passed, months passed. Mel was absent for the most part. When she was home she took care of me though she remained distant. Her anger was on low simmer just waiting to show itself at the slightest provocation. On the weekends Mel would insist that I go run errands with her. Just taking a shower and getting ready would leave me exhausted and I would lie down until she said we had to go. I took caffeine pills to try to give myself some energy but they did not help much. 

The worst was when Mel wanted to go clothes shopping. She was very particular about the clothes she wore. It would end up being a long affair. I would try to help by picking out shirts that I thought might look good on her. Again, my choices were always met with disdain. "That's fucking ugly! You have no taste," she would sneer. Having no energy to fight back I would slink away and return the shirts to the racks. Isolated and sick I depended on Mel to build or destroy my self-esteem. The caffeine would only do so much. My depleted body would soon subcome to the exhaustion and I would sit on the floor while Mel shopped. Which would make Mel angry. She would get frustrated that I could not be normal, though I tried to appear so. I would smile when I felt like crying, participate when all I wanted to do was sleep. At times, I would push myself so hard that I would have to rush out of the store to vomit outside. I would not tell Mel. I did not want her to get angry with me. I knew that she would be angry if we had to leave because I was ill. Sometimes it would be so bad that I would vomit as soon as we left the store and I would have to have her pull over on our way home so that I would not get sick in the car. This would inevitably make her mad. "Why did didn't you tell me that you were so sick? We could have left." I could not win no matter what I did.

I felt myself disappearing bit by bit. I was an inmate at home and Mel was my jailer. She issued punishments and praise and I hung on her mood. Gone was the rebellious and defiant teen/young adult. I was as submissive as my mom had been with her husband's. I would clean the house in bits and pieces between naps so it would be spotless for Mel when she got home. I grew my hair out longer and styled it in the way she preferred. I wore the clothes she picked out for me to wear. I tried to do everything I could to mollify her, to keep the peace. To make her love me. To hear the praise I longed for. I wanted to good Mel, the happy Mel, the loving Mel. I would anxiously wait for her to come home, to see which Mel would walk through the door. Sometimes she would bring me flowers, other times baleful looks and silence.

***

My weekdays were spent in a sleep-wake cycle. My old anorexic self would have been proud. I was skin and bones, the disease inside of me taking all the precious calories I could feed it. Monday, Wednesday and Friday I would go to the hospital and back home to try to sleep through the worst of the side effects on the couch with the television on. My body had no fat on it and soon it would begin to ache from lying in one spot. I would position pillows under my hip and shoulder to help with the worst of the pain. The pain in my hip would wake me and I would have to switch sides. My days off passed much the same. My body trying to recover from the harsh insult of the chemo, it demanded rest. My neck ached the worst, its muscles spasming from the constant horizontal position. Finally, I went to see Dr. Middleton. He wrote me a generous prescription for the muscle relaxant Soma. It is to be used with caution with those with a tendency for substance abuse. Upon arriving at home, I found out why. Though one had been prescribed, my neck was yelling at me and I took two; more was always better. I was soon carried away by its high. My body felt as if it were melting. My thoughts were wiped clean. An intense feeling of peace washed over me. It had been so long since I had felt the delicious feeling of being high. The rest of the afternoon I rode that high, taking more Soma as I started to come down. The aches in my body were forgotten. By the time Mel got home I was in an amorous mood and soon we took to our bed. After our love making we were both hungry. Mel went to the kitchen to fix us something - not red meat - and I injected my antiemetic and chased it with another couple of Soma. I was able to eat better than I usually did and Mel was pleased. We went back to the bedroom for round two. I felt complete. I felt at peace. I felt loved. Life without the chemical high was too loud. It was too bright, the edges too sharp. The pain unbearable.

One night I had lost count of the Soma I had taken. I swallowed some more with my nighttime medication. I sat on the couch and began to feel sleepy, so I got up and tried to navigate to our bedroom. The room tilted, my legs were rubber and I used both hands to steady myself against the hallway walls. Mel was outside taking care of the watering she did before we went to bed. My head felt like a balloon full of helium. I got to the end of the bed before my legs gave out and I passed out, hitting my head hard on the headboard. I have no idea how long I was out, but Mel was still outside when I came to. I lay there forcing my eyes open, refusing to go to sleep for fear that I would not wake up. I decided to eat, to try to absorb some of the drugs. I carefully went to the kitchen stepping haltingly as I tested each step. I grabbed a bag of potato chips and slowly maneuvered back into the bedroom. I sat on the floor, back to the wall, so I would not fall asleep. Mel came in and I did not dare tell her that I was in trouble. I sat bolt upright munching away as Mel got into bed and went to sleep. I am not sure how long I stayed awake. I stayed that way until the drugged feeling passed and I felt it was safe enough to finally sleep.

Is this the right word?