When the Canucks lost two games in a row last week in the first round of the Stanley Cup finals (and I mean LOST-- it was ugly) I turned into a giant ball of hockey-stress. I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned all night, fretting about the Blackhawks. When I finally managed to drift into fitful sleep, the Blackhawks were my first thought when I awoke the next morning.
My acupuncturist-- and I swear this is true-- felt my pulse and said, "Have you been feeling a lot of stress lately?"
It took me two days to recover.
For the next game in the series, I stopped wearing the Canucks jersey I'd worn for the first five games, and switched to my Canucks t-shirt and hat.
Because clearly the jersey was the problem. Without it, surely the Canucks would win.
But they didn't! (Although they did play better and the loss wasn't as brutal.)
It helped that I spent most of the game intentionally focused on other things to keep my stress level down.
Then tonight. Game seven. Do or die.
I went out to dinner just so I wouldn't have to watch the whole game. When I got home, half-way through the first period, the Canucks were up 1-0. And they stayed that way until almost the end of the third period when the dastardly Blackhawks managed to sneak one past Roberto Luongo.
The clock ran out. The game was tied 1-1.
At which point, I was about to jump out of my skin.
And then-- whoosh! Alex Burrows breaks away! He scores!
The Canucks win!!!
And I cry.
Can you imagine what I'll be like once the IVF drugs start?