Hell hath no fury

What a day. What a day. What a day.

I met my cousin Erica this morning. We haven't seen each other in quite some time, maybe a month or so, and it was really great to catch up.

After leaving her, I had to head to a cardiologist appointment. I have been having some major arrhythmia for the past year, and in the last month or so it has really kicked into high gear.

The nurse ran down my chart, updating my files.

"Are you still on the Prenate DHA?" she asked

"Those were my prenatals. I was pregnant last time I was here."

"So you're not still on it?"

"No."

She hooked me up for an EKG, tore a print out from the machine, and informed me that the Doctor would be in with me shortly. A magazine boasted a picture of Katherine Heigle and her new adopted baby from China. Even at the cardiologist, babies seem to follow me.

Doctor M. entered the room and ran through my chart. I explained that I don't know which comes first, the anxiety, or the arrhythmia, as they seem to be one vicious cycle.

"Are you exercising?"

"Yes, regularly," I offered, feeling self conscious about my post baby body, "though you wouldn't know it by my size."

"There is nothing wrong with your size," he smiled, "I treated a six hundred pound man earlier today."

I wondered if I should take that as a compliment.

Dr. M checked me over, and showed me on the EKG all the premature beats. He discussed medications.

"I want to put you on a Beta Blocker," he said.

"Is that dangerous for a baby?"

I explained to him what had happened with Peyton, and how I wasn't willing to take anything that could jeopardize a future pregnancy or child. Through it all, Dr. M. never batted an eyelash. I guess mother's telling him about dead babies are not that rare.

He scheduled me for a stress test, as well as some labs to check my cholesterol, thyroid, etc. Have I mentioned I am only 29 years old?

Dressing, I headed out to the desk to be checked out.

Behind the counter sat a very familiar face, and my heart stopped. We had worked together at my last job. Had been sort of buddies, waiting to walk out with each other at night so as to never navigate the parking lot alone. She looked up at me and offered a courteous smile.

"Please move to the next desk and she can help you," she said.

"Hi," I said, "it's me."

No recognition crossed her face.

"We worked together at CompanyX"

"Oh, yeah, right. How are you?"

Still no recognition.

The situation was becoming embarrassing. I made a few small pleasantries and headed for counter two. Her eyes followed me as I moved. She was still trying to figure out who I was.

I have spent the last year wondering how I would handle running into someone from my old job. I was a different person then, perky, happy, upbeat. This interaction ripped me apart. I have changed THAT MUCH. I have changed so much that someone I spent two years working with, someone I, at the time, considered a "work friend", no longer recognized me after a year of grieving.

Feeling like complete crap, I made my stress test appointment, and headed out the door.

****

After my appointment, I drove to the cemetery for my daily visit with Peyton. It was nearly 4pm at this point, and I felt like it was a race against the sun to get there before it got dark.

Reaching her, I did some housekeeping things, straightening up her plot, and was just beginning to tell her about my day, when a dog came running towards me from the woods. He was alone, unleashed, and coming at me quickly, so I decided to play it safe, and headed for my car.

I have never owned a dog. I like them, but random dogs coming out of the woods towards me is a little beyond my comfort zone. I watched from the safety of my car, as  the dog made his way through the cemetery, lifting his leg to pee on some of the graves near Peyton. A man called after him from the woods,  and my blood began to boil. It was him, the jerk I wrote about here, who was allowing his dogs to use Peyton's grave as a toilet.

Something in me snapped, and before I knew it, I was charging across the hill after him.

"Hey!" I yelled, "Hey! You!"

He was walking with three dogs, only one of which was on a leash. He looked at me startled.

"What do you think this is?"

"Excuse me?" He asked.

I was on a tyrade now. Uncontrollable.

"This place is not here for your personal use! This is no dog park, it is sacred ground!" My voice was growing louder with every word. We were nearly nose to nose. "I don't appreciate you letting your dogs pee on my daughter's grave, do you know how that makes me feel to have to come here and find her grave violated like that? There are trees all around here, take them to walk through the woods to pee, not here! There are leash laws you know!"

"I'm sorry," he offered, "I have this one leashed because I have seen him do it before, I didn't know the other ones would."

It was a lie and he knew it.

"They all have to be leashed! I catch you letting your dogs pee on a grave here again and I am going straight to the cops!"

Startled in reaction at the wild woman screaming at him, the man offered a weak "It won't happen again, I promise."

"Better not!" I screamed. "Hrmph!" And with that I stomped away.

Hell hath no fury...