Everywhere we go, Ri is on high alert for all things Frozen. She shops for princess items, carrying anything with these Disney characters on them around stores and performing full on fall out fits when we refuse purchase. In CVS, it was a box of tissues with Sven, Anna, and Olaf. In Giant, it was diaper wipes with a similar scene. In Target, it was a reusable shopping bag with princesses (and she filled it with an Elsa notepad and assorted themed writing supplies). PEZ dispensers, bubble wands, juice drinks. Each time she proclaims “HANNAH!” and leads us unwillingly toward the spotted product.
I’d pretty much had enough of the winter cursed crew. And then, last Thursday, I discovered I’d also been cursed. It began with a locked jaw that made chewing a robotic, awkward effort. Soreness in my muscles turned into frostbite tingles overnight. My fingers numbed. By Friday, my headaches increased intensity – not quite migraines, but profoundly disruptive. My tongue swelled (had I eaten something with sulfide preservatives?). Speech slurred. My face was frozen.
The speech distorted even more by Saturday, and I’m sure it was hard deciphering my words as I tried to help Chi with her Atlanta Fashion Walk activities. By lunch, I couldn’t eat – the muscles in my jaw weren’t responding to commands. And my eyes burned, my lids fought against blinking as vision grew progressively hazier.
By Sunday, I could no longer articulate my thoughts. My ears hummed, sounds echoed as though tunneled. Voices were amplified and pitched. Images in front of me blurred. My legs stiffened. And my frustration reached a new peak.
I was frozen and no amount of summer heat – of warm hugs – was melting my curse.