My Heart

December 8, 2009 at 12:12 pm (Brazil, Things I don't like, international relationship, life is short, long distance relationship, scotsman)

I flew home and arrived on Monday morning, dreading the next 10 weeks away from him but looking forward to my birthday spent with my kids that week. Three and a half days later, on Thursday I got the phone call.

The phone call I hope with all my heart I never get again.

Within a couple of hours, I had booked my flight, made my phone calls, and was on the way to the airport. The kids called their dad and arranged to be picked up and stay with him, and closed up the house for me.  Then I ran. A drive to the airport and a shuttle ride I don’t remember, a nearly 3 hour delay as the plane arrived late and had to be prepared for the long flight, 10 hours in the air, a 45 minute taxi ride to the hospital, and then those doors.

And fear.  I was so afraid.

Emergency Room

When I saw him there, hooked up to all the monitors, wires and tubes, and looking like shit but alive…I finally got my breath back. When he opened his eyes and smiled at me, I wanted to fall down on the bed with him and nearly did. He slept most of that first day and night I was there and I didn’t take my eyes off him.

Because he’s a hard-headed Scot, he was too stubborn to stay in bed. By the next day he was walking the (very short) hallway, and the day after that they let us out on the grounds with strict orders to stay “very close”.
Clinica Sao Vicente

Which is what we did for the rest of the week. We walked every inch of the hospital grounds, including the forest pathways through the trees.
Brazilian Mushroom

And back and forth to the little coffee shop where we made friends.
Bug

And on day 4 we snuck out. It sort of became a necessity when we both ran out of clean clothes, and we had to buy at least one change of pajamas. Also, in my panic, I forgot to throw extra underwear in my bag (Ahem) . The day after that I took my first solo trip into Rio to find a few more things we would need.

When he got the all clear after a week, we went home with strict instructions. Take your meds, no smoking, no stress, no work for a while and walk every day.

There are worse places to do your rehab.
Rehab Beach

Going back to the states that time was the hardest one yet. All I could think was, what if I lost him? Why am I leaving? How do we do this?

Long distance. Life is too short to keep that distance. Our time is coming.

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Unexpected Perils Indeed

November 3, 2009 at 10:11 am (Brazil, Things I don't like, international relationship, life is short, long distance relationship)

Still Beating

I thought the caterpillar was scary.  Give me a basket full of caterpillars any day over that phone call.

That phone call with the fading voice, telling me to call our emergency contact while I could hear the heart monitor beeping in the background.

That 10 minutes of scared scramble when I couldn’t find her number.

That second phone call with the words “Heart attack”.

That third phone call with the request to come, to be there, knowing that meant things might be bad.

That mad dash to the airport, praying for the phone to ring and afraid that it might.

That long, long overnight flight with no contact for almost 12 hours.

That walk through the hospital doors, not knowing what kind of news waited inside.

These are things I hope I don’t have to face again for a very, very long time.  Hopefully never.

He’s OK.  He’s recovering and should be totally fine.  My heart still beats.

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Roy

September 7, 2005 at 5:27 pm (New Jersey, Things I don't like, let me explain)

I told a friend at work about my freaky bug problem. You know what she said? Oh, they’re cute! I should keep one as a pet.

I knew there was something wrong with her.

I had to do some laundry this morning. I crept down the stairs like a Navy Seal, flyswatter in hand. No bugs on the wall, grab the dirty stuff and I’m goin’ in. All was going well until I pulled out the lint trap. There, next to the garbage can, it was watching me. For a moment my heart started racing and I got that itchy fear feeling in my fingertips. Don’t panic! Then I thought about what my friend had said. I could catch it, keep it in a fish bowl and watch it every day until I’m no longer afraid. Desensitizing myself like the pros. We even came up with a name for it. I had to giggle at the thought of calling him “Roy”. I used to work with a great guy named Roy who was not the most masculine man in the shop. “Roy” would be an interesting addition to the pet population around here, joining the cat and the fish. We could talk to him and gross out our friends with our creepy little family member. Wouldn’t it be great?

Then I killed it.

Sorry, Roy.

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Uninvited guests

August 30, 2005 at 9:04 pm (Home, New Jersey, Things I don't like)

We live in a very old house in New Jersey. That house has a very old basement. We’re talking pre 1900’s here. Do you know how they made basements in the 1800’s? With rocks. Rocks picked out of the ground. Still covered with dirt.

Somebody sometime at least put in a cement floor, probably some time in the 1940’s when the kitchen and bathroom were added to the side of this house. They made a new section of basement with cinder block walls and added a floor down there, thankyouverymuch.

One of the drawbacks of a fieldstone basement is all the dirt and such that wiggles its way into the basement between the cracks. By “such” I mean streams of rain and freaky bugs. At first I thought these occasional bugs were some mutant form of spider, about an inch and a half across and UGLY. Plus? They jump at your face. Now, as I’ve stated before, I don’t really mind bugs unless they’re A) pincher bugs, B) on me, or C) jumping at my face. Can you guess how much I like these mutant spider freaky bugs? NOT.

After much discussion at work and lots of google research I have found out that these things are called Cave Crickets, also Camelback Crickets. A cricket you say? How cute! Don’t they make that charming chirp sound to lull you to sleep at night? NO, to say they are like a regular cricket is to say that the incredible hulk gets a wee bit unpleasant when he’s angry. These are crickets crossed with tarantulas on crack. Like this. Picture that jumping at your face.

I like to consider myself a fairly strong and even tempered woman, who can handle herself with minimal male help in times of crisis. I also hate to be afraid. I LIKE this house and don’t like having a portion of it wich makes me so damned jumpy. My laundry facilities are in the basement. Do you see the problem? Every single time I have encountered one of these things they have been sitting on the rock wall just at shoulder height at the bottom of the stairs. The very narrow stairs. Right where my shoulder brushes against said rock wall when I take a basket of laundry downstairs. Do you recall I have two kids? Do you know how often I have to go down there to do laundry? So I arm myself with a fly swatter and sloooooowly ease down the stairs on a recon mission. If all is clear I go back up for the laundry basket. If there is a monster, er, bug – I kill it. The second one (there have been NINE) I killed with at least 9 major whacks with the fly swatter, then I put a glass over it so my husband could see in the morning that I didn’t actually make these things up. 8 hours later, when he checked it out, it was still alive!

So, my kitchen is clean, my room is picked up, the kids are fed, everything is done around here. Except the laundry. How many other things can I find that NEED to be done? Oh, sorry, I can’t quite get to the laundry because my recipes need to be sorted, and, um, my, um, sock drawer needs to be color coded, yeah!

OK, I guess I have to face up to the six foot tall pile of laundry and get my ass down there, right? My ratings for mother of the year are slipping every time I tell the kids to just pick something from my closet to wear. What? You have no underwear? So?

So, I’m arming myself with the flyswatter and will NOT look around lest I see a bug once I’m down there.If I’m not back by tomorrow, call for rescue.

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Skid marks

August 30, 2005 at 5:23 am (Kids, Things I don't like)

We decided to splurge yesterday and buy some clothes for our girl. She has grown two inches in the past 3 months and has been walking round here like Urkel for weeks. Time for more pants.

First, let me tell you that we are not rolling in the bucks here. We are on a limited budget for a while (who isn’t anymore?) and trying to save for a major purchase. It’s sad that a big part of that major purchase is heating oil to keep us warm through the winter, but such is life.

Anyway, we found her 3 cute pairs of pants that fit her very nicely. They didn’t have any seams that rubbed, tags that scratched, belts that pinched or any other similar major defect which would render them useless and banish them to a life of uselessness in her top drawer, never to be seen again. Yay for us! She also found 4 cute shirts to go with them, all for a relatively reasonable amount of money. Phew.

So, what did she do today with her lavender – cutest pair ever? Her ONE day old cutest pants? She played with her brother at the skate park, sliding down the ramps on her KNEES and on her ASS. Repeatedly.WTF?

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