We are Warriors or So We Believe

Even being a 9-11 survivor I think this is the first time I thought I was dying—not so much before the ambulance came but when I was in the hospital bathroom having to pull that very obvious—what I always thought I’d never have to pull—red string. I could not get up; I could not stop sweating; I was bleeding out. 

Also the first time I was in an ambulance for myself and of course wanted to record a video from looking inside out, but couldn’t grab my phone. An aside: I was in an ambulance one time with Meredith when she was in middle school. Of course she insisted she walked into the car and the car didn’t hit her, nonetheless, she was on the floor in the stretcher and the car was fine. Mike and I probably are the only parents that would not sue the driver of the vehicle that hit her.

Well back to the present… 

I started getting sick last week sometime—a little blurry about the exact day. I still swam, walked, went to Manhattan and had folks for dinner but by end of week, it was all downhill. 

I went on Wednesday to Manhattan with Mike, finally an appointment for him with a doctor that is going to fix his inverted eyelid [believe me, a whole other story]. We took the normal route, train, ferry, train and walked a few blocks. Mike wanted to pick up some tongue [I know, I know, I squeeze my face in disgust when I type that word in terms of food]. We walked about a dozen or so blocks downtown to the Second Avenue deli. I was tired. I was so tired. [I walk a few miles a day, I do not get tired from walking 12 blocks.] Unsure of what Mike wanted to do next, I told him I had hit a wall and needed to go home. He, of course, was amenable and we got the train to the ferry to the train. It took about 2 hours since we missed the ferry. I sat down in the house and did not get up for a while—so so tired. I thought I was suffering from one of the side effects of a new medication for my newly diagnosed AFib [really now, I do have a story about that as well, but not right now]. 

I want to remember this and everything about this experience. It is important and it has consequences that are still happening as I write this. 

On Thursday, I awoke and did my routine. Up at  sevenish, brush teeth and wash face, down to pick up cup of coffee Mike makes me each morning, back up to bedroom to take blood my pressure, sit on the bed in my spare room, read the headlines, check Slack workspace for tasks or something I need to do for my political work, just a glance at email to assure nothing important came in, catch up on lingering Word with Friends games and some other solo maniac game I am playing. Half hour passes, I do the prayers. The prayers are a ritual that I have been doing since I retired. I have always prayed but I do it very consistently now and for specific people. There is a list. Sometimes it changes but once you are on the list,  you usually remain there in perpetual. I have two women on my list that I have never met: children of women who worked with me in Chicago.  They will remain on my list.

Back to story: 

Felt yucky all day; did normal things caught up on tasks, swam, short walk but was tired all day. I had some other symptoms—not to get too specific here because not important to story, but the symptoms had been there for a few days. I had some concern because of my paleness…I had a nice tan but my face was white, very white, much whiter than my white privilege might suggest. Day ran on but I did decide not to go to the opening of the bar at The Carlyle Hotel with friends on Friday.

I knew I had do something and started Friday afternoon by walking to the doctor’s office to make an appointment and pick up a prescription for blood work. I knew that whatever was wrong had to do with blood work and I should get it done so I would have results by the appointment. I thought I was being really efficient about this.  In my doctors office, the woman mentioned that the next appointment was 4 weeks from now, but I said it was kind of an emergency and she gave me an appointment with my primary for Thursday. My gastro doc is in the same office and I knew I would need to see him as well, so made an appointment for the same day, before my primary so if he diagnosed whatever, I could cancel the other. Never want to take a spot from someone to see MD and thought I might open a spot for someone who needed it. I think in general women unconsciously do things like this. 

Those appointments were big steps for me; I do not like going to doctors and always think I can fix myself. 

Although I was very excited about The Carlyle, I was much more excited about having the lunch crew from Donnelley over on Saturday. It had been two years since we were together. Our annual pool party was cancelled due to Covid the year before. Alas, when I awoke on Saturday, I texted everyone that I was cancelling because I didn’t feel well. I was so so so tired. It was hard to do. I love these women; we know each other well for more than 20 years; we have shared so many intimacies and sorrows and happy times. We are multigenerational: 40s, 50s, 60s and 70s.

Michael absolutely knew I must have been really sick to cancel the party and asked a few times on Saturday whether the hospital should be the order of the day. And as many times as he said that,  I said I had an appointment with the doctors this week. But by Saturday night I was wondering how I would manage the next five days.

Sunday morning I awoke and started the routine. I was so so so so tired. I did not go down for the coffee; I brushed my teeth; I took my pressure; it was 70 over 55. The 55 number was normal; the 70 not so much. I did a terrible thing: took a picture and sent to my sister in Florida. I knew the phone would ring in about 5 seconds and I could count that down. She said hospital, I said I thought so and yelled down to Michael that we were going to the hospital. We decided on an ambulance. Your admission process is much faster and I knew I needed to be fast at this point.

The rest of the sickness story is not terribly important; my friends say I am their rock and hard place. I relish that role, but really they are my rocks. 

I am recovering and my friends have prayers being said for me in many places—yes, even the monks in New Mexico and the prayer to the Sacred Heart of Mercy at 3 pm each day.

The message here is simple. We, especially women, need to remember that while we are warriors we are still fragile—please everyone, take precaution when not feeling well. I am grateful to be here today.

Asides:

I will write stories about all other things I’ve mentioned.

Health care workers have it easy when it comes to acts of kindness, they are kind every day; finance people not so much opportunity.