I think it’s raining. Oh, wait … what is that? Oh, come on! Not cool, Universe, not cool.
I tend, generally, to take a positive view of life. At least, I’m very good at talking myself into taking a positive view. I know that I’ve got a lot going for me and that I’m lucky to have a house and good friends and a family that cares for me. I tend to look at each difficult thing with the attitude, “Well, if this is the hardest thing I ever have to deal with, I’m lucky.”
(Don’t get me wrong; I can recount every injustice since the age of two, but I try really hard to keep that out of the everyday.)
Until recently, things were going very well for me. I felt very good about life and where I was going. (Except for my love life, which I’ve come to recognize as a perennial cycle of disappointment and heartache.) It’s safe to say that I felt better about life than I have … well, ever.
Ha! Silly little Molly. Don’t you know there’s a price to be paid?
The last three weeks have been a whirlwind of pain, confusion, fear, anger and uncertainty. I’ve wanted very much to keep it to myself, but I realize that writing about these things helps me deal with them. So, here it is.
I went to Italy with one of my best friends, Misty. I arrived in Rome after one of the more ridiculous travel experiences I’ve endured (Thank you, Alitalia flight attendants, for going on strike. Vive la whatever!). When Misty and I went to Siena to visit my parents, we were met at the train station by my dad and stepmom. My father was yellow. Marigold yellow. Hi-I-have-Hepatitis-and/or-my-liver-has-for-one-reason-or-another-ceased-functioning yellow. I almost burst into tears as soon as I saw him, which is unusual for me when dealing with my father.
My father and Peach decided to cut their vacation short to come back to the States so my dad could see his doctors at Sloan-Kettering. Good call.
Misty and I went back to Rome with my friend Aliki, who lives the sort of fabulous life abroad that all women dream of and makes it work because she is so freakishly blessed with the language gift. We were at Aliki’s apartment getting ready for dinner when Misty got sick.
Even now, I’m not sure that I can accurately describe how truly terrifying what happened was. I’m not sure that I should put it here, either, as her husband and family and other friends don’t need to hear it. Suffice it to say that I have never, in my whole life, been so at a loss as to what to do. I have never seen someone in that much pain without being able to identify the cause, or know how to make things better.
Aliki and I called the ambulance and the EMTs came and took Misty to the emergency room. The doctors decided she needed emergency surgery. Misty had suffered an aneurysm and was bleeding internally. The next 48 hours are something of a blur. While waiting for Misty to get out of surgery, I was calling her doctors here in the States and her family. The hardest part was trying to explain the severity of the situation to her family members without screaming and crying and freaking them out.
I was able to see Misty the next afternoon and Aliki and I made sure all of her insurance was in place. I met up with her cousins at an airport hotel and gave them all the details and turned over Operation: Roman Holiday. I left on Sunday to come back to the States.
The airline lost my luggage. I lost my parking ticket.
My father had a blocked bile duct, which is why he had turned yellow. Good news: a simple surgery will drain the duct and then another simple surgery will ensure this doesn’t happen again. Bad news: the cancer has spread to his lungs.
I went to work on Monday and was told that the Public Relations department was being eliminated due to budgetary restrictions. So, now I’m out of a job.
Any of these events on its own would have been managable. But together, they just seem a bit overwhelming. I’m trying to look at this as an opportunity to change a lot of things. I can renew my relationship with my father. I can get serious about getting myself healthy. I can look at the reactions people had to Misty’s emergency and make more informed decisions about the kinds of people I want in my life and what I’m looking for in a partner. I can move. I can try something new, job-wise. I can take a short break and get my head back in order.
Right now, though, I’m having a hard time staying positive and not just crawling into bed and staying there. I have some amazing friends who have really stood by me through this and have done their best to be there for me. But there’s a level of comfort I simply don’t feel; a way of being soothed that no one seems to have figured out. I don’t know that it’s even anything that another person could do.
I intended to write this as a funny blog. Once she’s back and safe for sure, I might try to rewrite the Misty episode, as it’s just so ridiculous that all you can really do is laugh about it. And be jealous that her doctors in Italy are smoking hot. Distractingly so. I don’t know how anyone controls her blood pressure in that place.
So, if you can give me the following things, you’re someone I might like to talk to: a job, chocolate, a job, the cure for cancer, a job, a declaration, a job, a private medivac from Rome to DC, a job, free manicures and pedicures for life, a job, really good wine, a job, a back rub, a job, maid service, a job, a good mix CD, a job.
I miss my mommy.
