As one of my favorite young women used to say when she was seventeen, a total starlet, needing to express to me the absolute hugeness of something great or awful . . . "You have no idea, Sister Buchert. You have no idea!" I have had a twitch in my left eye for TWO SOLID MONTHS plus a few minutes, a freakish muscle spasm that started about the time The Ancestor went into the hospital for the first time this year. Twitch, twitch. Every day. All through the day. I have tried getting more sleep, napping, deep breathing, massage, attitude shifts, long and short walks, reading, watching movies, and on and on. I have it on Good Authority that destressing is the key to detwitching. And by golly, I have tried every experiment imaginable to me, hoping to hit on the right combination of relaxers.
Now The Ancestor is in the hospital again, her third tour in 2007. I have not slept well in several days, have been running back and forth, worrying, trying to see into the future—the sort of stuff you wouldn't think of as generally restful—AND YET. I hadn't been up long this morning before I realized that my eyelid hadn't started its daily breakdance. I was almost afraid to consciously notice this change and I considered covering my bases by knocking on wood to instantly neutralize the thought. I've been watching myself sideways all day, and haven't yet had my lid go wacko. Your Joe Average once in a while sort of twitch comes and goes without much fuss; you don't really think about it when it leaves. But when one settles in to be your constant companion (and not in the helpful Spirit sort of way) for six, seven, eight, nine weeks, you become so intimately acquainted with the horrid little thing that you can't help but want to shout a hallelujah at the first sign it may have packed up and moved on.
What finally did the trick? Am I going to wake up tomorrow only to discover that it's back? (knock, knock, knock)
When The Ancestor comes home again, will my twitch be tagging along? Is it possible to have the former wthout the latter?
She's doing some better, by the way, at least pneumonia-wise. Her brain appears to have taken quite a hit recently, but maybe some of those clouds of confusion will clear up with the infection. Looks like she'll be back home sometime later this week. Maybe.
Meanwhile, I'm letting Rob make wishes and kiss my lucky eyelid. Then I make him tell me his wishes, in case I can help them come true (or so I say).