May I Have Your Attention, Please
May I Have Your Attention? I have something to say.
My palms are sweating and my heart is racing because I turned off my WIFI connection today. And instead of staring at a blank screen and writing what I’m supposed to be writing, I’m looking around panicked and worried that my cell phone will not let me play on my dearly beloved Face Book, okay?
My hopes and my dreams and my worldly beliefs found their way onto your newsfeed and into your “LIKES” and this made me feel worthy and good. And so I continued to post and I’d post and I’d post until I really no longer could. And not because my hands were cramped, because my hands were cramped… and not because the house was a mess or the dogs needed walking, because the house IS a mess and the dogs they do need to walk, but because I ran out of things to say… my mind has gone blank.
My heart started racing and my mind couldn’t focus as the panic choked its way up. I thought I’d stopped breathing as my body was sweating and this feeling wouldn’t go away. So I fled to the hospital, straight to the ER, where the site of the blood made me think... I need a selfie. I need to post this. I wonder if this will retweet?
So I stood in front of the waiting ill and I snapped a group selfie with everyone holding their wounds. Our large, toothy nurse gave a giant thumbs up and I #hashtagged well wishes to my wounded comrades. And I shared it to my page and I wrote, “Life’s a mess, and I’m in the ER, I hope we’ll all be okay.”
And then you responded in the way that you do, with George Takei quirks, and Dali Lama quotes and nonsense from YouTube.
But then, I’ll admit, I wanted to read: hey we love you, do you need us, and may we come over, what could we possibly do? Instead you wrote:
“American medical care is a joke, beware of your enormous bill.”
“Life’s a bitch. Take it easy. BTW, I broke up with my girlfriend today.”
“Hope you didn’t fall and couldn’t get up! Do you need me to order you life alert?”
“I was in the ER last year, that place is a mess, so many sick people not covering their mouths.”
These comments are sucking they’re not about me, what should I--
“Ms. Beeber, the doctor will see you now.” And as I faced the nurse and she asked what was wrong, I hardly could form the words. My heart started racing and my hands were shaking and my mind went completely blank.
“Ms. Beeber, you’re going to be fine.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I said as I started to come to, “What’s the matter with me?”
To which my doctor explained…
“You are suffering from PTSD my dear, you are going to be okay.”
Silence.
In order to combat the anxiety and the panic I feel, I’m to stop logging on to Facebook and Twitter and Instagram, or anything with a “feed.”
So, I turned off my WIFI connection today.
