With thanks to Daisy, who righted the world for me. Again.
I have not been funny. I’ve had the emotional equivalent of Ebola. I not only had nothing funny to share, I was afraid I would infect the blog. Caution: I may still be Not Funny.
We had a medical crisis in the family. That’s what all the driving over the Golden Gate bridge was about: driving to the hospital.
17 days is a long time for someone you love to be hospitalized. Especially for the sick person. But if we temporarily ignore the Sick Person…?
This weird thing began to occur…
People associated with the hospital assumed I worked there. Parking garage attendants (these guys are holy in San Francisco, FYI, waaaay up there in the social hierarchy.) were bantering with me, and calling me by name. When the parking garage was full, Edward said “Aw just leave me your keys. Double park your car on level 3, and I’ll have one of the guys move it around. We’ll watch it. When is your shift over?”
Rather than climb the hill up and around to the formal hospital entrance, I climbed the shorter hill to the loading dock (this is the unofficial entrance for nurses, doctors, social workers, and support staff). At one point, the driveway security guard (Mick) made a delivery truck wait for me to pass, so I wouldn’t be late for work.
I thanked him and waved.
After I got my coffee in the cafeteria, where Mei Li repeatedly attempted to convince me I don’t have to pay, as she rung me up, I stood sipping from my cup at the doctors/nurses elevator, and began finding myself exchanging hello nods with clipboard carrying people in scrubs.
I texted Daisy: “Do you think I have a job at the hospital that I forgot about?”
Daisy texted back: “That would be awesome. Tell HR your paycheck is late.”
Someone from HR did stop me in the hallway, to ask me if I had a good time in Cancun.
“Fantastic!”, I said, without guilt.
The sense of belonging is so powerfully comforting, I had no intention of letting it go.
After a particularly trying day, in which I could not keep my fear in check, I called Daisy at work. Sobbing.
Daisy: Who is this?
There’s only one “Me” in Daisy’s life. I’m the only friend she has who is convinced Daisy has secret x-ray vision powers over the phone. (Daisy knows about the hospital, etc)
Daisy: Jane?! What’s wrong?
Jane: I’m in the hospital and it’s a bad day and now I’m scaredshesgonnadieandI’mlosingit…
Daisy: Did anything new happen?
Jane: No. I just got really scared that it’s still the same.
Daisy: Okay. Nothing new? She can’t die from this. Not a die-able illness.
Daisy: Deep breath…switching to text.
Pause, while Daisy sorts out the run on sentence and we regroup to text.
Daisy: Look. She’s going through hell. You’re going with her. It’s just going to be hell for awhile.
I love Daisy. Instant perspective.
Pause while this sinks in. I relax for the first time in days. Now I’m embarrassed. (Which I consider a huge improvement over hysterical.) For Pete’s sake. It’s just hell. I text back.
Jane: Oh. Hell. Geeze. Been there, done that. We can do hell. Why didn’t we say so? Hell is NBD.
Hopefully, I have not infected the blog. If so, take two cupcakes, and call Jenny Craig in the morning.
I’m unclear how much posting I’ll be doing? (Can you break your funny bone?) I wanted to at least let you know it’s for a reason other than a Cake Coma.
Thank you Bella and Alice, for your major support, and taking care of Hudson on days I couldn’t. What would we do without you??