All By Myself

Let me preface this blog entry by recognizing that I am very far from alone in this world.  I have an amazing family and a super supportive group of friends all over the country (and world for that matter).  However, I started this journey with Karla about the same time I ended my three-year relationship with Alex, so I have had many moments where I am reminded that my story is unlike someone with a spouse, significant other, family member, or even a pet living with them.  I am alone on this path, and it is very sobering to be reminded of this fact.

I had one of those moments the night before my surgery on Monday.  Two of my closest girlfriends, Penelope E and Jackie, were planning to accompany me to Virginia Mason on Monday.  Jackie was going to take me to the hospital for my 7:30 a.m. check-in time and Penelope E was going to tag team with Jackie to follow up at the tail end of the day to check me out of the hospital that afternoon after my surgery.  All of us attended a baby shower earlier that Sunday afternoon, and I left the party early to have dinner with Martin and turn in early to get enough rest that night.  I also wanted to get enough sleep so that I could get in one final early morning run before leaving for the hospital.

After I left the party and Martin and I had finished eating dinner at my place, Penelope E, Jackie, and a few of our friends continued the celebration at a bar across the street from my condo.  Penelope E came over to serenade Martin and me on my balcony from the sidewalk below.  I assumed Penelope E would be taking over the afternoon shift at Virginia Mason, so I didn’t give her many of my early morning details.  When she asked how I was planning to get to the hospital in the morning, I told her Jackie was going to take me, and in her jovial state Penelope E indicated that I may have to find “alternate arrangements.”

I interpreted her comment to mean that Jackie was too drunk or something had happened that was going to impede Jackie’s ability to drive me to the hospital the next day.  I came back into my condo from my balcony to scroll through the contacts in my phone to figure out who else could check me in for my surgery.  With Jackie and Penelope E potentially compromised and Martin obligated to work on Monday morning, I called the next person on my “short list,”  Amy, who I’ve blogged about several times in the past.  Amy is my best friend from college, has always been by my side during times of need, and has supported me throughout this whole ordeal with Karla and my reconstruction.  However, when I called Amy that Sunday night, her roommate David answered the phone and reminded me that Amy left for D.C. earlier that week.  I totally spaced that Amy was going to D.C. for a vacation with her parents.  I felt my heart drop into my feet.  “D.C.?” I muttered to myself.  David asked me if I was okay.  I told him I would be, quickly hanging up the phone. 

As I sat on my couch alone, staring at the ended call with David on my phone, I proceeded to have the biggest panic attack I’ve had in a long time.  I knew that the hospital would not allow me to have my surgery unless I had someone with me to check me in.  Three of the people I have relied on during my journey with Karla were out of commission, and Amy, the last person on my “short list,” was out of town.  I could feel my face getting flushed, so I went to the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face.  As I stared at myself in the mirror, I started to cry.  Every emotion related to fear, anger, and helplessness overcame me.  I can’t explain why I had such a visceral reaction, but I proceeded to have a meltdown that left me bawling on my bathroom floor, despite the fact that: (1) I knew it was likely that Penelope E was joking; and (2) even if she wasn’t joking, I knew I would be able to find someone else to take me to the hospital the next morning.  For the first time in a long time, I felt truly alone and helpless.  Those feelings are usually so foreign to me that I was at a loss for how to process them in that moment.   I curled up in a ball and continued to cry.

In the end, the misunderstanding with Penelope E and Jackie was worked out and I obviously made it to the hospital okay and in time for my surgery, which went well.  But it was helpful to have the perspective shift I experienced that Sunday evening.  Most of the time I feel so loved that it’s like there are a million people in the same room as me making sure I’m well cared for.  As a result, I fear that I take my friends for granted and may have become too flip in the way I process my world, assuming that things will work themselves out and someone will get my back all the time.  The reality is that I don’t have the luxury of relying on a spouse, significant other, or family member to help out when I’m unable to help myself.  Friends are different — they don’t have the same level of obligation of a partner or family member.  It’s a lot to ask of my friends to get my back all the time. 

So today, on my 33rd birthday, let me take a moment to point out the obvious — this talk about being alone is all a bunch of crap because we’re all alone.  Partnered or unpartnered, those with family living next door to them or those who have not one living next of kin — at the end of the day, we were all born alone and we will all make our grand exit the same way.  On Sunday, I was reminded that I should be very grateful for my unique group of friends who take care of me and who I love like family because they are accompanying me on this otherwise lonely path, supporting me, and making me laugh along the way.  For that, I am truly grateful.

From today’s title I bet you could predict I’d choose this as today’s soundtrack: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=267NP2XBxmg.