Yesterday was an odd day. It was so hard to get out of bed, especially since I tried Theraflu's new warming nightime caplets on Sunday night. Man alive, don't ever try those unless you're ready to be out of it for the whole day! It says to take two pills every four hours. I took two pills at 8pm, and at midnight when Jesse woke me up on the couch to go to bed, I couldn't even walk straight. I was still completely drowsy when my alarm went off at 5:50 in the morning, and I ended up staying in bed until the very last possible second around 7am.
I've been sick for weeks, between colds, a stomach flu, and a sinus infection, and I'm tired of it! All of the symptoms have slowly faded away, except for a pain in my ears and all-over achiness. When I was able to single out pain in my ears, I knew something was wrong.
I made it through the school day yesterday, but as soon as the bell rang at the end of the day, I got in the car and drove to the doctor.
I sat for about an hour in the waiting room, crocheting and trying to avoid the instant death germs that were wheezing out of everyone around me. When my name was called, I was led to the same room I was in last time I went to the doctor, back in December.
As I sat there waiting for the doctor, all of these memories came back to me. It was a Monday, the last time I was there, and my foot was in so much pain that I could hardly walk. I had served jury duty that day, and had told Ami the week before that if she could pray me out of jury duty, I would come spend that Monday with her and Papa.
It had been an agonizing appointment; sitting there, waiting, knowing that the doctor was going to have to cut into my foot to see what was hurting me beneath the skin. I had thought about driving straight up to Oxnard to spend the night with Papa and Ami as soon as I got out of jury duty, but my foot was in so much pain, I knew I wouldn't be able to keep it on the gas pedal for that long.
Jesse was there with me that day, holding my hand and reassuring me while the doctor probed my foot with a scalpel. It was so painful! He basically had to carry to out to the car; I was in so much pain. Jesse pampered me on the couch for the rest of the day, brought me everything I needed, and kept me comfortably situated with my foot elevated and on ice.
I remember calling my mom the next morning. It was a cold and windy Tuesday, and my foot was still so painful that I knew I couldn't make up to Oxnard. The purpose of my call was to let Mom know not to expect to see me that day. But as soon as I heard Mom's voice on the other end, I knew that wouldn't be the case. She was sitting right next to Papa as she talked to me, and I could hear as he struggled for breath.
I've already told the rest of that story. It's still so hard to think about, sometimes.
One of my friends lost her grandpa last week. My heart goes out to her, because the pain is still so fresh in mine. But her grandpa had alzheimer's disease for years before he died. That must be so hard. My papa was really only sick for three months before he died. Thinking back, I'm so greatful for that.
Because it was so quick, sometimes it feels as if it didn't even happen. I read something funny the other day, and put it aside to share with Papa because I knew it would make him laugh. I miss his laugh! It's weird to think that only a few months ago, back in October, Kate, Laura, Ami, Papa, and I were sitting at a picnic table in the windy harbor eating fish and chips.
I turned on Closed Captioning the other night as I sat home alone watching the Olympics. He loved the Olympics more than most people I know. Somehow, the familiar white-inside-of-black block letters made him feel closer.
It's been two months. I know that the pain eventually goes away, but I also know that a little bit of it hurts forever.
There is so much less pain, though, with the hope of seeing him again. I thank God for that.
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Oh, and p.s. the doctor said I have a double inner ear infection. Whoop-de-freakin' do.
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