I wish I could say Friday started well. It didn't. I went into work early, about 7. All through the previous night I'd had a heating pad over my mid-section because of some random pain. By about 9am, the pain was excruciating. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't sit. I stared at my computer monitor waiting for a co-worker to come in, so I could tell him I had to go home. By 10, I rushed off an email to the co-worker who had still not arrived, I hobbled out to my car, and burst into tears.
I called BF and he didn't answer. I forgot he was getting his hair cut. We were to leave at 2pm for his sister's wedding in the Irvine Area.
I didn't think I'd be able to drive. By then I was making these weird animal huffing sounds, guttural and shallow, with an occasional sustained grunt thrown in for sport. It was one of those moments when the left half said, "I'll never make it." And the right half said, "Suck it up. You've got no choice." So I turned the key in the ignition and drove slowly, all the while, clutching my mid-section and groaning.
BF called back just as I was pulling the car onto our street. I asked him to come home.
I microwaved the hot pack and collapsed in bed. I'd stopped crying. (I can't remember the last time I've cried from physical pain. Just so you don't think this is normal.)
BF started looking on the internet for possible diseases I might have. I think he read me the definition for dyspepsia.
At about noon, I felt a little better. We each ate a Lean Cuisine tv dinner. I watched tv. I sent BF out to buy a real heating pad and get gas for the car. We had to leave to drive in LA traffic. There was a rehearsal dinner we needed to attend.
Skipping ahead, we spent a few hours in traffic. We ate too much dinner. Near the end I moved to be close to an electrical outlet and plugged in the heating pad for the remainder of the meal. After the wedding, we announced we wouldn't be joining the family at the Disneyland "after-party," so they asked us to drive BF's grandmother back to Tehachapi. We did. Eight hours and one flat tire later, we're back home at 2am. And can I just say -- nothing is further away than Bakersfield. I will never forget standing on the side of the 58 freeway, watching BF change the spare, wondering how we'd make it home, wondering where we were. And wondering why there was one of those white plastic flossing things where we were standing. For 3 1/2 hours we drove back at 55 miles an hour. Everytime the car bounced in a pothole, I gripped the door handles in preparation to flee. And it took freaking forever to catch up to the bright lights of Bakersfield. No matter how far we went, it always seemed to still be just out of reach.
Now it's Sunday and my side still hurts. I'll probably call the doctor tomorrow. It seems like I should anyway. I kinda need to be able to breathe properly.
Oh and yeah. It was a beautiful wedding.
Oh and yeah. BF and I parked his car -- the same car that had the flat -- in a restaurant parking lot. When we came back, we saw a bunch of people standing around two cars next to his. The wind knocked a giant tree branch onto the roof and hood of the two cars. It narrowly missed his.
Oh and yeah. BF's sister was rear-ended last night or this morning. And other crap is going down too. I sure hope we're getting all the bad luck, so the newly wedded couple can enjoy their honeymoon in Aruba sans hurricane.
No comments:
Post a Comment