cool whip 2.0

We went to a wedding of a childhood friend on Saturday night. The last time I saw her we were in the neurosurgery wing at the hospital both waiting to go under the knife. Last night, on her wedding day, we spoke briefly about how our surgeries had helped us and how we'd each prayed for and worried about the other. She looked so beautiful and so healthy. I sobbed while watching her dance with her husband and then her father I was so overcome with joy.

Then, while Spencer was chatting with a friend, I suddenly saw four of my legs. I took several deep breaths and willed myself to snap out of it, then, realizing it wasn't going to happen, tugged on his jacket saying, "Magnet! Magnet!"  (He keeps my magnet when he's with me because I've lost two of them.)  He calmly led me through the crowd and just outside the gate, telling me that it was going to be fine and instructing me to sing.  The very bad, very long partial complex seizure didn't turn into a grand mal seizure but I was still humiliated.  After I came out of it, a bridesmaid came out to see if I was okay and I just started crying.  Spencer told her I was fine and she left without further questioning.  Spencer said he was going to go retrieve my clutch and I asked him to please explain to the bride's brother why we were leaving so hastily.  I made a beeline for the car, praying nobody would stop me and ask what was wrong.  I felt like I was in high school.  The worst part about it?  I had just mustered up all of my courage and confronted an old friend and asked to get together in order for me to apologize for my part in the demise of our friendship. She doesn't understand my seizures or our "decision" to not get pregnant.  I also think she believes I like the attention.  She's not the only one who has said that to me.  Trust me, it isn't worth it.  Who likes to be the center of attention when their face is contorted in horror (probably crooked with Cerebral Palsy too) and they are white as a sheet and sweating profusely?  Nobody.  But, she will believe what she believes and I still plan on my apology.  Still, I hope like hell she didn't see.

I was so upset last night.  However, when we were home and I opened the pantry door to throw something away, something caught my eye-- a bag of Halloween marshmallows.  Remember those?  They made it through the move; so did the coolwhip.  I have made several items requiring both since then, but I've just purchased alternates.  I can't bring myself to throw them away or use them up.  I suppose they will end up like the bottle of my great-grandmother's homemade chest rub that has been in my mother's fridge since I was born.  (We recently confided in each other that sometimes we open it and smell it, just to be reminded of her.)  Maybe one day I'll have to throw the rancid cool whip and rotted marshmallows away; but whenever I look at a container of cool whip, I will smile and think of my Daddy, no matter what kind of day it's been.