On Saturday morning I packed the car with my suitcase,
plenty of GiGi-type-food, and a granola bar for good measure. It had been at least 3-4 weeks since I had
last stayed the weekend with my girlfriends in the bay area, so I was looking
forward to a weekend of uncensored girl talk (complete with words and topics to
make my mother blush). It was especially
exciting to get a tiny break from being a snack making, mind shaping, potty
training mommy and passing her along to spend time with her daddy-o. I had high hopes of bouncing out to the car
at 7 am on the dot, and actually succeeded in doing s, despite the super stress
of dealing with a slight fender bender the day before.
Backing out of a parking spot in a most unfavorite superstore
chain, I looked both ways several times, and then smacked into a driver who
decided to play “raceway” in the parking lot isles. A small woman in a large
suv hit the brakes to “wait for a parking spot” to empty out and I backed into
her going .0004 mph. I hit her tire and
gave the rubber a little of my silver paint, and my back bumper suffered a dent
the size of a hand…or a fist punch. This
seems like the true meaning of the word “accident” in my opinion. At least it does, on my end. GiGi seemed fine aside from the obvious
distraction in our plan to acquire some much needed milk from Starbucks. She didn’t make a peep, and since it really didn’t
feel like anything at all, I considered us both v. fine. I stepped out of my car with my paper, pen,
insurance card and license on hand. The woman
in the other vehicle refused to move.
She also spoke zero English and even after someone who spoke her native
tongue arrived, still couldn’t manage to understand my need for an exchange of
information. I’d like to say that it worked itself out
smoothly after that, but there was an ambulance, a police officer, several eye
rolling witnesses, and a very near fight (a lovely father of two confronted the
driver and her passengers while they requested an ambulance and I believe my
favorite phrase was “come on now, this is a fucking scam and you know. There’s nothing wrong with you OR your car.”)
In the end, she drove away in an ambulance while the officer
continued to look for any sign of damage on her vehicle. He came up negative on that one, just as he
did with proof of her insurance. I was
left sobbing, wondering why someone would be deliberately trying to take
advantage of the situation.
So on Saturday morning, I tried to be positive and hush the
neon words in my head, like “$1000 DEDUCTABLE” and “SCREWED OVER” and “MY INSURANCE JUST WENT DOWN. NOW THIS!?!!”
I managed to get into a happy groove
and drop off the tot to her dad, and get over to my haircut, eyebrow wax and
dye appointment with 10 minutes to spare.
I got all dolled up and then drove over to A’s house. I remember taking an allergy pill the
moment I arrived because I was feeling a little snotty. Staying with her is hit or miss on the sneezing
thing. We were roomated for years, and
so her home and the kitten condition is nothing new to my nose, but sometimes
it affects me a little worse than other times. I honestly assumed that I was just more
sensitive that day, considering that I wasn’t there for that long before she
and I, and two other of my lovely ladies went to lunch.
(The brows. The hair.)
At lunch I still felt sort of sneezy, but short of breath as well. I chalked it up to a pretty fucking
miserable symptom of allergies, but nothing more. By the time I got into bed that night, I was
having harder time breathing. I flipped
through pictures on my phone of GiGi, since I hate spending an evening away
from her, and thought about the little things I was trying to remain positive
about. Sometimes working hard to remain
positive takes it toll and at night I just lay tere thinking of all the shit that
I need to really get a hang of. I had
gone through every class listed in the Fall Schedule catalog for college and
gotten onto a few waitlists and nothing for sure. I had a doctor appointment
for GiGi and needed to make another that I totally forgot to do. This accident was going to impair my ability
to finally pay off my debt, as well severely bother me with its unethical crap
a-brewing from the other party….and now on top of all of those things I was
having hard time breathing. Awesome.
The next morning I woke up with the same issues of snot and sneezes
and shortness of breath. I trudged along
through a movie (The Hangover. Hilarious IMHO) and lunch with my best
friends. As I picked up my daughter and
hugged her like I hadn’t seen her in 17 years, I noticed that it physically
ached to pick her up. I started to think that I had tweeked my body somehow and
that I was slowly crumbling into an old woman who just had a domino effect of some
odd illness. Maybe I was getting the newest swine flu…like… the Siberian tiger
flu or something?
My ex had explained that GiGi pretty much refused to eat for
the 26+ hours he had her. That never
sits well with a parent, does it? We got
to L’s house and after to guiltful small fries later, she was crying less but
whining more. After four hours of
attempting to get her to go to sleep she finally went down at midnight. At that point in time, I was afraid to fall
asleep because I was having such difficulty breathing. Genius right?
To think like that and not go to the ER…I’m brilliant? I’d like to say I had a better reason other
than, eep! My kid would be hard to handle in ER, and I couldn’t impose on
anyone to watch her while I sissy out and go to a doctor.
As 6 am rolled around and I could barely pick GiGi up
without feeling like I was going to pass out, I made up my mind to skip the
endocrinology appointment for her, and drive home to see a doctor. To keep myself calm, and the babe happy, I
absolutely indulged her road trip whims so that I could just get home. Yes, one of those whims were her newly
acquired and not so often tasted “fries!” at 11 am.
Would you believe that this whole thing was an asthma
attack? A three-day asthma attack to be precise. I’m sure it sounds like a typical attack to someone
who has asthma, but since I don’t, er…didn’t think I had it, it never crossed
my mind that that’s what was going on.
The doctor, who I call Magic Man, said it was a combination of
allergies, and asthma attack but also, an anxiety attack tossed in to really
fuck things up. I was told to calm
down, and I’m so glad my sister was there with me because I thought I was a
really chill person. From the outside, to
others, I guess I am a little high strung.
Hrmm.
A few types of pills
and an inhaler later, I am feeling wonderful again. My upper body is still sore from apparently
working overtime to help get some air (and sanity?) but other than that I am
feeling like…me. Im ready for whatever it is my busy toddler bring my way, and as GiGi says:
