The World As Mare Sees It...
Preparation. 2005-11-29










I am uncomfortable and itchy. There is what seems like half a roll of medical tape stuck to me, holding four electrodes, various wires and a heart monitor that does nothing to accessorize my pyjamas.

One by one, my whole family is going through echocardiograms and 24-hour Holter monitors to find out if whatever took my brother from us 55 days ago runs through our family.

Along with having the monitor attached to me, I also had my echo today. I heard my heart beat for the first time, as well as all the little valve thingys opening up, which has a pleasing squelching sound, like walking in wet mud.

The echo itself wasn't bad - it's an ultrasound, more or less, with the blue gel and the images and the pressing of the remote control thingy against the skin. The only difference is that I got felt up a little more, which wasn't as fun as it could have been.

God, I can't believe we have to do all this.

By the same token, I can't believe I'm going to London tomorrow. Running to London, really, for why has this opportunity been given to me except to run away a little? Right? Would I be boarding a plane tomorrow if life hadn't changed so drastically eight weeks ago?

God, I don't know. I'm tired of thinking so much about it, really. What I do know, though, is that some things don't change. I've been packing since Sunday, and I'm still not quite finished. I thought I was being orderly and organized and mature about this, even managing to scale down seven pairs of shoes to six. But I just know - I mean, I know it like I know how to spot a cute boy in the dark - that tomorrow, about an hour before I leave for the airport, I will look at my pile of luggage and realize that I'm being just ridiculous. I will then open it all up, and do an emergency re-pack that will end with my removing one measly t-shirt which, when I get to London, will be the one thing I'll deem wearable as I look at the useless piles of clothing tossed around my hotel room.

I'm going to London tomorrow, poppets. How on Earth did that happen?

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