Dear Tom Selleck . . .
I hope it doesn't make you uncomfortable to talk about 'girl things'. Because I'm going to tell you anyway.
I'm pretty sure at THE very moment the sailor started talking about me having a baby, I went into menopause. How many people can tell you down to the minute when they entered menopause? It's like my reproductive system heard him, slammed on the brakes, seized up, and died. I started forgetting things because my head started swirling a lot. Then I started getting hot flashes complete with sweat. And I don't sweat. My mood and emotions went crazy. Crazy I say! Damn hormones.
Or maybe it was just anxiety. No, probably menopause.
As I tried desperately to sleep the night he asked me to have his baby, I began to have a heart attack. Full blown cardiac arrest, massive coronary. My chest hurt SO badly and I couldn't breathe. At all.
Or maybe it was just anxiety. No, probably a heart attack.
Today I proposed he come stay the summer with me. I'm waiting on a response, but I think maybe I should give you my username and password for my email because I am about to be in NO shape to read it. Not because I'm celebrating St. Patty's Day. No, if I live I'll be slinging the beers instead of drinking them in a few hours. But because I'm having a stroke. I can feel half of me going numb, and I'm pretty sure I can't speak or walk. All I can do is beg for help with my eyes.
Or maybe it's just anxiety. No, probably a stroke.
It is nothing less than a miracle I have survived this week. I just wish I had objected to the plastic bags at the grocery store. A paper bag to the face would likely save my life about now.
Edie B. Kuhl