Mattie, Day 2 (my brain gets mushy)

God, I'm tired. It's strange having somebody else in the house. It's almost like living in the dorms again, because I've got to be conscious of not scaring the bejeezus out of anybody by, for example, screaming at my computer monitor. These are things that I do around Paul because, dude, he married me. He's stuck with it. ;-)

But I'm tired. I haven't slept well in two nights. I don't think it's because somebody else is in the house ... I think it's because I'm putting a lot of mental energy into maintaining conversation with him. It's funny, because the guy is just out of a hospital in Michigan for malnutrition. He only "eats" liquid supplements right now. His friends don't know he's sick. But his brain goes 90 miles an hour. When he's not talking, he's processing, and when he opens his mouth, bam!, it's some crazy insight that I haven't considered before.

So we drive and we talk. Just like in the old days with "the other Matt" (realize I know about eight of them). He smokes in my car, and I like it that way. "Do you smoke?" he asks me. I tell him I don't. "Did you?" I again reply no. "Are you going to start?" I pause ... then say no. Actually, it has nothing to do with that. I guess just some really important people in my life have been smokers, and I've learned some of life's greatest lessons sitting cross-legged outside on a blustery day on friends' smoke breaks. It's the smell of good memories, I tell him. "What," he replies, "the smell of cancer?"

He gets frustrated at how well I'm able to manipulate the conversation around to talking about him. I get frustrated at how he's able to do the same to me. After a while, I comment that we're going in circles, and until one of us stops fronting, we're not going to get anywhere. He says he wants to help me. I say he can't help me until he learns to help himself. Secretly, I fear he's going to die. Seriously.

He brings it up first. "You worry about me and feel obligated to take care of me." I shrug; it's true, but I don't want to admit it. He continues,"I'm here to teach you how to take care of yourself." I blink ... surely he didn't just say that. I remind him that he can't even take care of himself, so how can he teach me anything? He gets quiet ... I know that's struck a nerve. He doesn't like to admit that he has these self-worth issues. And from what I can tell, his friends back home don't notice, or he doesn't let them.

I tell him I think he's here not to take care of me, but because he knew he was sick and needed someone to take care of him. Maybe it's true, maybe not. Why else would he tell me things he doesn't tell his friends back home? It's going to take a few days to get this all sorted out.

Today, a friend reminded me I have to think of Kate first, others second. It looks good on paper, but it doesn't work so well in practice. I mean, I'll probably go home and lock my bedroom door and crash tonight because I feel like I'm two inches away from passing out. My head is throbbing and I've got a nosebleed (stupid allergy season!). But I won't crash until I'm sure that he's okay. I think that's what he needs. I think he knows that, too, or he wouldn't let me take care of him.

And after reading this, my City of Heroes buddies should have no question about why I play a healer. ^_^ I may not be able to save the world from villainy, but I can at least make sure my team is okay.

Send me happy thoughts ... and e-mails ... and choco-chip cookies.
Kate