We saw a play

Not Nick, of course. He’s laid up. So I went with the group of wonderful and dear friends we’ve been doing theater with for decades. For the last few years it’s all been at New York Theater Workshop, which is amazing - some of the best shows, like Hadestown started at NYTW before they made it to Broadway.

I was sort of stoked but not a ton. Haven’t been feeling super social lately with all the stress. But I wanted to see my friends and see a show that would take my mind off things, for a while.

This was not that play. It’s a musical called “We Live in Cairo” and it tells the story of the Arab spring through six main characters.

There were two problems. The first is that nothing about the story or songs or actors spoke to me. I felt no connection to what was going on on stage.

The second problem was head injury-related. The heavy percussion, the screeching singing, the strobing and lights - a nightmare. I had to keep my eyes closed throughout most of the first act. I couldn’t shut out the sound though and I could feel this deep discomfort in my brain as it tried to make sense of the stimulation - the overstimulation - and couldn’t.

We weren’t all sitting together so we regrouped at intermission (or as Nick calls it, “halftime.”) The two friends I was sitting with were good to leave the play and go get a drink. Our other two friends - sitting further away - liked it and chose to stay. And I’m glad they did - they enjoyed it. And we have some PTSD about one play that we did leave at intermission, and regretted it. The play was “Scenes from a Marriage” and we’ve always known that was a mistake.

Not this time.

I’ll get to the fun drinks part in a moment, but to close out on the play tI got the normal survey that the theater sends out after every play. My answers were different this time (I usually - almost always - say glowing things. And I mean them.) This time my experience was quite different and the survey reflected that.

When asked “how was your experience with We Live in Cairo?” And I told them. The lights, the sounds - all of it too much. When asked “what would you tell someone else if they were considering seeing it?”

“Don’t see if if you have a traumatic brain injury. Seriously, don’t.”

That was the play, and then the three of us went in search of a bar in the East Village on a glorious day where everyone was out and every bar was packed to the rafters. It took us a bit of time to find one, and we sat at the only spots - 3 stools at the bar, pressed tightly together.

And we talked and we drank and we laughed and it did what the play couldn’t. I love being with these women - they give me life, especially right now when I need it the most. (So do the two others - all are among the friends who are closest to me and dearest to me in the world.)

At one point one of them asked me to tell the other (they’re sisters-in-law) about my nighttime snacking routine.

Before I shared the secret special knowledge of my nighttime snacking protocol, I asked the gateway question: do you have an eating disorder? She said no, and her sister-in-law concurred. I said - and I meant - that she was my hero. So rare to find a woman without Ed.

I explained the snacking sequence, which is in four stages.

Stage 1: nightfruit. Lately pink grapefruit, but has been green grapes, cherries, oranges - lots of variety.

Stage 2: Utz honey wheat pretzels

Stage 3: Blue Diamond lightly salted almonts

Stay 4: Hershey bar with whole almonds.

And I told her the backstory. How early in COVID we were going to bed early (7 pm!) and I was in bed largely awake. So I munched, and munched. I made it through all the stages, and sometimes reached even higher levels by going into the kitchen and taking a few of whatever sweet baked goods I’d recently made. The world was ending, right? Who cared what I ate.

But once I refound my discipline (and believe me, I’ve got it back in full force) we go to bed later, I get into bed much more tired and I rarely make it to Stage 4. Sometimes a bit of the Hershey bar but normally I find it untouched on the nightstand.

The other friend said “maybe tonight you make it to the Hershey bar.” I knew what she meant - I have lost more weight. Not a ton, just 3 or 4 pounds but on me that’s a lot and my thinness is obvious no matter what I wear.

Then Nick and I had a chat about this, and how my eating (lack of eating, to be accurate) was bothering him. It always does, but much more now that I’m taking care of everything while he’s laid up. The trash, the recyclables, the compost. The packages that need to come upstairs, be open and emptied and then returned to a corridor on the ground floor where they collect them and turn them into flats. Walking Bear - 3 times a day, 20 minutes at a time. Some days 4 walks. Dealing with the laundry. And the cooking and the cleaning and everything else.

I wasn’t complaining about it and that also wasn’t his point. His point was simple and clear and his logic was unassailable. Given how much more I’m doing I’m not taking in enough calories to get me through. My physical workload has increased dramatically and wouldn’t this be a good time to consider adding something to my daily diet?

If you have Ed you know how difficult this is. You cant just say - and mean - sure, I’ll eat more. If you’re going to go outside the safety box there’d better be a damn good reason. One that makes sense to someone with Ed.

It was hard to argue with. Actually impossible. So I agreed. I think what’ll work for me is a muesli-like cereal with milk. It’s what I eat for breakfast when we’re traveling and I know I’ll be doing lots of exertion. And even though I’m housebound the exertion is real.

So now in the research phase. What brand, what type?

Beloved readers - suggestions welcome. No high sugar or super high fat, obviously, but a good European style muesli? I appreciate all ideas.

So there we are. A play that connects to my head injury and Ed and being Nick’s caregiver. It’s all connected. The same way as the head injury is connected to the workouts and my shoulder. The workouts do more than any single other thing to manage the increased anxiety I’ve felt since the head injury. And even though I’m aware and careful not to make my shoulder worse it’s still getting overused. Another of my closest friends told me that right now my mental health is more important than my shoulder.

She’s right.

And it’s all connected - all of it. Including the election and our difficult-to-live-with mashup of optimism and terror. The fact that Nick’s injury is having the unfortunate side effect of exacerbating both my head and shoulder pain. The headpain is worse because our usual coping mechanism - backgammon, wine, weed, music - aren’t available to me right now. We’re workshopping strategies for that. And all the heavy physical work makes my shoulder worse.

It’s all connected. All of it. Everything is.

More stories to come. And I’m now giving serious thought to starting a podcast. Again and as always - thoughts and ideas welcome.