It Can Always Get Worse
A few years ago, my good friend, KG, had had an exceptionally trying year. As the new year began, she said, “It has to be better, because it can’t get any worse.” I had a sinking feeling when she said that. It seemed that she was tempting fate. I kept my mouth shut because, well, it was an opportunity not to be missed.
KG had indeed tempted fate. That year was worse than the year before. As yet another new year rolled around, she said, “I will never again say that it can’t get any worse.”
* * *
Summer 2001 was a huge suckfest.
In the weeks after my crash, friends came to see me from near and far. (I think everyone thought I was on my way out.) I had lots of flowers and cards and visitors. I was overwhelmed with the outpouring. I felt blessed to have so many people who cared about me and remember feeling somewhat surprised at how many people had reached out to me and my circle. Thanks, guys!!
I was finally released from the hospital on July 10. I was scared to leave. I was still so sick and I didn’t know how I would make it out in the world. Earlier, E had asked me where I wanted to stay; with her or my mother. Without hesitation, I said, "You." I did not want to stay with my mother because she lived in a very small two-bedroom apartment with my adult brother. (Thanks, but no thanks.) I didn’t want to be a burden to E, but I didn’t have anywhere else to go and I wasn’t in any position to actually do anything about it.
So, to E’s house I went.
I was still very, very sick. I had a feeding tube hanging out of my nose and a drainage tube coming out of my abdomen. My mom came and stayed with me a lot and took me to my weekly hospital visits. For once, my mom was a blessing. She didn’t leave my side for the last two weeks of my hospital stay and I was happy to have her there. I never thought I would have been happy to have my mother with me for two solid weeks, but I was.
On Saturday, July 28, E’s son was playing in a soccer tournament. They were going to be gone all day so E recruited my friend R to stay with me. R and I were just hanging out, doing nothing because, well, I couldn’t do a fucking thing. The phone rang and R answered it. She handed it to me. It was my dear friend and neighbor from San Francisco, BD.
BD: It’s DD.
Me: What happened?
BD: She passed away last night.
DD was my best friend in the whole wide world. And now she was dead.
It can always get worse.
KG had indeed tempted fate. That year was worse than the year before. As yet another new year rolled around, she said, “I will never again say that it can’t get any worse.”
* * *
Summer 2001 was a huge suckfest.
In the weeks after my crash, friends came to see me from near and far. (I think everyone thought I was on my way out.) I had lots of flowers and cards and visitors. I was overwhelmed with the outpouring. I felt blessed to have so many people who cared about me and remember feeling somewhat surprised at how many people had reached out to me and my circle. Thanks, guys!!
I was finally released from the hospital on July 10. I was scared to leave. I was still so sick and I didn’t know how I would make it out in the world. Earlier, E had asked me where I wanted to stay; with her or my mother. Without hesitation, I said, "You." I did not want to stay with my mother because she lived in a very small two-bedroom apartment with my adult brother. (Thanks, but no thanks.) I didn’t want to be a burden to E, but I didn’t have anywhere else to go and I wasn’t in any position to actually do anything about it.
So, to E’s house I went.
I was still very, very sick. I had a feeding tube hanging out of my nose and a drainage tube coming out of my abdomen. My mom came and stayed with me a lot and took me to my weekly hospital visits. For once, my mom was a blessing. She didn’t leave my side for the last two weeks of my hospital stay and I was happy to have her there. I never thought I would have been happy to have my mother with me for two solid weeks, but I was.
On Saturday, July 28, E’s son was playing in a soccer tournament. They were going to be gone all day so E recruited my friend R to stay with me. R and I were just hanging out, doing nothing because, well, I couldn’t do a fucking thing. The phone rang and R answered it. She handed it to me. It was my dear friend and neighbor from San Francisco, BD.
BD: It’s DD.
Me: What happened?
BD: She passed away last night.
DD was my best friend in the whole wide world. And now she was dead.
It can always get worse.
posted by nottotaled at 4:55 PM
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