file under: more clonazepam, please

On Thursday, I received a letter from Women's Health Laboratories, informing me that my recent pap was normal and encouraging me to have another done in 1-3 years. On Saturday, I received a phone call from my doctor's office, informing me that my recent pap was ABnormal and urging me to schedule a medical procedure as soon as possible. Cervical cancer was hinted at. Stunned, I set up an appointment for January 11. After I hung up, I thought back to the letter and tried to call the doctor's office back. They're out until this Thursday.

I survived, sort of

I sat in a wooden coffee-shop chair for nearly ten hours, yesterday. I revised, composed, and pored over reference pages for improperly hanging indents. I switched back and forth, between APA and MLA formats, until I had half a dozen tabs open.

I ordered a Mole Mocha and the barista asked me if I wanted whipped cream and cinnamon, because that's the only way she can drink it. I said sure, why not. Back at my table, I stirred the whipped cream into the drink and watched the surface become a cinnamon-flecked oil slick. It took me nearly ten hours to drink it all.

With nothing but a pane of glass between me and the sidewalk, I typed for hours, a storefront display for weekend shoppers. People walked past: fellow students with over-stuffed backpacks, young families with over-stuffed strollers, a few locals walking dogs and running errands.

I watched outside turn from foggy daybreak to wintry sunlight to early twilight. The street lights came on, then the spirals of fairy lights that decorate our downtown trees' bare branches winked on. The day-shift barista left, replaced by another who shouted weekend plans at the back of her head as she hurried out the door.

Early-morning runners came in, followed by families running errands, followed by study groups, followed by grad students with project binders, followed by post-shopping coffee-getters, followed by people grabbing coffee to kick off their evening.

I took mental breaks, staring out the window. I people-watched. I got up, used the bathroom, stretched, refilled my water bottle. I tested sentences out loud, under my breath. People came in, sat next to me at the window, finished up, left. I stayed.

I finished my papers, only to find there were no assignment submission links yet. I saved my documents, texted Nick to let him know I'd be home soon, put my cup and saucer in the bus bin, re-packed my bag, and shivered all the way back to my car. When I'd left the house, it was foggy and 65.

I walked into a crisp winter evening, with a stiff breeze running around building corners and down my shirt. My car didn't have a ticket on it, the 2-hr parking signs must not have been for the entire lot. I drove home, feeling drained and a little woozy. I smelled like coffee beans, radiators, and old floor varnish.

I woke up this morning feeling ravenous, like I'd run a marathon.