Wonder-onder-ondering

I have always wondered. No, not wandered - I’m more than happy not moving for 36 hours, slowly almost turning into a rock before being dragged off to do something like breathe, eat or get to work.

Wondering - I let my mind roam, curious about the world and the things, the people, the creatures around me. And I wonder how you are. Reader. Friend. Stranger. Are you okay?

I reached out to what seems like an old, old friend about a week ago - curious if he was okay. In and out of hospital waiting rooms, my mind would wander to ask how he was - a question I couldn’t really answer.

We aren’t friends on Facebook or anything else really. My e-stalking dug up nothing. He seemed too quiet or was really good at keeping life offline. Even a friend of his who I had been friends with online had dropped me off his list. Interesting but understandable (we weren’t friends, anyway and I’m fairly antisocial).

So, I just sent everything out - to whatever Skype, Facebook Messenger, Email contact I had I asked “Are you alive?” Turns out he was. Was I worried something had happened? I don’t know.

I was scared he hated me. That’s why I went looking. Why would he hate me? I don’t know. Why should I care? I don’t know. I worried. My mind wondered it once and I couldn’t un-stick the thought.

He answered one email. Then the next email. Then he stopped.

Why? I wonder. I don’t know. But I’m trying not to wonder too much. It hurts. I feel hurt. I shared something he probably didn’t care too much about.

If you’ve read The Gandalf Downstairs, you’d know I had a little polyp. Well, while my papsmear came back clear, the polyp results said I had HPV CIN1. What does that mean?

Well, if you believe the doctor who told me that I should definitely have children (because it’s so easy to decide these things and a stranger should pick for me), it means that in 6 months I either have nothing to worry about or early stage cervical cancer.

That scares me. To my core. It shakes me hard. I can’t even wonder about that. It’s my second ever wall. A block. A no-go zone.

1. My father.

2. The polyp.

The moment my mind starts to wonder, I start to cry. While I cry often - including at the drop of a hat, halfway through an ad about health insurance and at the sight of a yawning puppy - this is a different response. This is an automatic, turn-the-tap-on, slow crawl out of my eyes.

I'm trying to keep myself on the straight and narrow. I'm trying to keep healthy. I'm trying not to smoke. I'm not 100% doing okay and I don't know how to really express it because everytime my mind goes there - waterworks.

Stupid brain. I wish I could tell you what to do.

I wish I didn't wonder.