January 3
There were many photographs taken on New Year's Eve, well into 1/1. Unfortunately, the later (or earlier, depending on your take on things) it got, the boozier we were. This is Sanju. She's married to Chris. Chris & Sanju are our friends. Sanju is much cooler than Chris. It's a fact..
Welcome Back, Slapnuts:
So, if you've been on vacation from your job since December 22, possibly the last thing you want to hear when you get back, I mean the very second you walk through the door would be "Hey, how come you didn't come in yesterday?!" from your fucknut coworker. This would be the case even IF said fucknut coworker hadn't been the one who told you you had the day off in the first place. The fact that it was she who insisted practically every day in the month of December that she didn't understand why the break was so long, but how glad she was because she had so much stuff to do, being ignored, imagine how surprised you'd be, were you me, to walk into:
BS: SO, you decided to take the 2nd off, you wild thing!
Dana: What??
BS: Yesterday!
Dana: What are you talking about?
BS: You didn't come in!!
Dana: Uhh..we weren't supposed to be back until today(*see note)
BS: Yes we were!
Dana: You were the one who told ME that we didn't have to be back until the 3rd!
BS: No, I didn't! You were here when I called and found out we had to be back on the 2nd!
Dana: No, I wasn't. You told me we needed to be back on the 3rd. You told me how unusual it was that we were getting the extra day!
BS: I don't remember that. Besides, you told me you were taking the day off, no matter what
because you were going to be out partying for your birthday, and that's what I told Dr. B when he asked!
Dana: WHAT? You told him I was staying out NO MATTER WHAT?
BS: Yes, because that's what you told me.
Dana: Look, I heard FROM YOU that we had the day off. You CHECKED the date! YOU told ME, not the other way around!
BS: Umm..no.She is a toad.
(*Note: Remember my mentioning yesterday I thought I was supposed to go back? I knew it was too good to be true. i also should have known that she'd do something like this. Besides, if it was so urgent I be here, someone could have called me at home. As it was, I was here at the hospital with my grandmother. As such, whatever. They can go shit in a hat ["and eat it! don't forget to tell 'em to eat it!" as my grandfather added on Christmas.], whoever they may be.)
And today is one of those days I am more than willing to reconsider what I've said in the past about not talking shit about her because she considers me a friend. Today, I feel like telling all of you that immediately after she lied to my face about having the day off, she turned around and opened a gigantic container of the stinkiest, assiest smelling salad, at 8:35 am, and sat there eating this big fucking bowl of onion-soaked-in-garlic bullshit, so bad that everyone who walked in (at 8:35!) would look around like "what the fuck is that??'" and that after she finished her stinky salad, she opened a pound of carrots and crunched them and ate them and snacked and nibbled and THEN took out a Tupperware container of some kind of fish which she brought off to the microwave and came back happily eating. ALL BEFORE 9:00. When Louise questioned her, she answered "I'm STARVING! STARVING. I mean, last night, I fell asleep at 6:15, and didn't even move once, it was like the bed was made over me, until 5:30 this morning". At 10:00, it was Cup O' Noodle Time. ONION Cup O' Noodle. At 10:15, "Man, I am starving! I'm going to call the menu hotline! Aw, only corn chowder! I hate corn chowder, it goes right through me, whooo!"
Later:
I'm really kind of struggling with what to think and feel about my grandmother's surgery. On the one hand, I am utterly confident she wouldn't get better care anywhere else, so within that I have a kind of calm. I am afraid, though, that my calm belies something else, some deep, screaming panic I have to face the fact that someday, it will happen. My grandparents will die. I can think of nothing more tragic. Isn't that silly? The sorrow grips me, just as I fall asleep: the kind where you wake up, teary eyed, heart beating fast breath shallow, the kind where you're left there, cloaked in darkness, wide awake with your thoughts of the loss of someone you love that much.
I feel like a child. I am 30. I am fortunate. I am terrified. It is my role, within my family to be peacemaker, the favorite, the one who fixes the emotional things. How do I fix this? Anyone who's been through a family member's (or their own) bypass know that the actual surgery is a small part of it. Recovery is long and painful and hard. Factor in a batty 80 year old husband and a huge condo and a New England winter and a granddaughter who feels guilty because maybe she could find another hour or two in her day to visit, to be there, to listen to stories and dole out love and hugs to people she would die or kill to save and protect. Remember back to the time all those years ago you and she went to see Frank Sinatra. Remember how she was the first person you called when you heard he died, and remember how her phone was busy because she was calling you, and remember how you both cried and cried together about it. Not only because you were both fans, not because you went to see him, but because that point of reference because that shared memory would fade, just that little bit.
When I look back on this amazing relationship we've always had, that's when the fear chokes me. I have to battle what I know, what I am told every day, what I am surrounded by at work, the science, the improvements, people don't die, they don't, Dana, you know, surgeons don't like failure, they don't, and a second bypass, while not being common is certainly not unheard of, and she's in great hands, but there's always that feeling, that need to bite down, hard, on the inside of your mouth when you bend over to kiss someone you love irrationally, wildly with your entire being and existence goodbye, or more specifically, good luck and please body, even though you're in your 70s, please hold out for more, I can not yet tolerate a life without you, you bite down hard, drawing blood, to keep the tears tucked back until you turn away. You keep them well hidden until you are able to run to the bathroom because, as you remember, it was your grandmother who sits beside you Christmas after Christmas watching "It's a Wonderful Life", and when you sob uncontrollably, as you always do at: "A toast to my big brother George, the richest man in town" she smiles at you and rubs your back.
These are the things I will think of, on Friday, when she is under anesthesia. This is the life I want her to come back to. I want more of this Wonderful Life. I want more. I am selfish.
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When somebody loves you
It's no good unless he loves you - all the way
Happy to be near you
When you need someone to cheer you - all the wayTaller than the tallest tree is
That's how it's got to feel
Deeper than the deep blue see is
That's how deep it goes - if its realWhen somebody needs you
It's no good unless he needs you - all the way
Through the good or lean years
And for all the in between years - come what mayWho know where the road will lead us
Only a fool would say
But if you'll let me love you
It's for sure I'm gonna love you - all the way, all the way