In Which We Slink Back to our Blog and Hope No One Noticed Our Absence…

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.

Jane: I’mafraidshe’sgonnadieandIcan’tdoitIjustcan’tdoit!!!

Daisy: What?

Jane: WhatifshediesandIcan’thandleourlifeandthekidsandthedogohgod…

Daisy: Who is this?

Jane: Me!

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.

Daisy: Exactly.

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??

18 thoughts on “In Which We Slink Back to our Blog and Hope No One Noticed Our Absence…

  1. Just catching up with blogs after NOT reading anything so was actually feeling a bit guilty I was so behind. Sorry to hear that your absence was not for happier reasons and I’ll be here when you can post again – whether or not you are still funny (and you will be. I promise).

  2. Hugs to you.

    My aged Papa has been in hospital for over a week and has open heart scheduled for Monday. My blog(s) haven’t been very funny lately. They’ll bounce back as I do.

    Look up, kick on. Kick!

  3. Missed you, missed Murphy, hope all goes well. Ain’t real life a bitch? Nothing’s worse than knowing your way around a hospital. Unless it’s knowing your way around, um, three of them. Ick.

  4. Jane we love ya, even if we’ve never met ya! You just do what you have to do, and don’t forget to hug a pony now and then, they work wonders for the soul. And when you’re ready to be funny, we’ll be totally waiting. And when you aren’t we’ll be pulling/praying for you. And when you post Muphy pictures we’ll squeal and run around like little girls, cause well, we’re shameless!

  5. I am so glad to see you post. Hugs from afar to help you get through. I know what you mean by the hospital.. my mom and aunts became such regular some of the staff brighten up to see them. At least you had the humor to notice that.. they didn’t at the time.

  6. Jane. YOU NEED CAKE. What are these healing professionals thinking? The sick person may not die of the not-die-able illness, but what if you lose all your strength from lack of Vitamin Frosting?

    Deal with this immediately!!

    Also: Hudson called. He wanted to congratulate Fiddle on her non-stupid haircut. She wanted to ask HIM over for carrots. Not a date, just a hanging-out thing. Anytime. Apparently you and I are in charge of bringing the carrots.


  7. HI!!!!! HI HI HI!!!!! MISSED YOU!!!!!

    Happy Valentine’s Day, to someone whose love I truly admire. Your bloggy friends are here for you, during, through, or once Hell is over. Sorry to hear you’re there right now though. I hope you’re at least getting free latex gloves and elasticon from your fake hospital job.

    Also, fyi, please don’t let Hudson see Tucker’s blog today. He instantly regretted it once he realized Hudson might see it. I promised him we’d try to keep it a secret.

  8. No infection noticed. I’m in the same position — except the person I love has something that is die-able. In fact, the odds are very much leaning, no shall we say, smashing in the die-able direction. So you have my utmost empathy because it truly is a helpless situation. At least you get to be there, mine won’t let me within 1,000 miles.

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