When I cried two times in one week:
The first was Wednesday, when the needle in my arm hurt almost from the beginning of the ECP that I have now graduated to doing every other week, and no amount of adjusting with pillows or the 625 milligrams of Tylenol and the 5 mgs. of oxycodone helped. Tina said she would try another needle, but I kept thinking it would get better and I didn't want to get stuck again, so I stuck it out. The drugs finally kicked in right at the end of the three hours. This doesn't usually happen. She said next time she would try a different vein.
I had the same bad car service but this time they sent a good driver. I told him about all the complaints I had filed and he said that their boss does indeed give too many pickups at the same time. For example he said he got six pickups for 1 p.m. on a certain day. Another driver called to ask if he needed help, but he said he had already done them all by calling each one and asking if it was OK to pick them up a little earlier. That wouldn't have worked with me, because I played tennis and had coffee with Donna until the last minute. He said I should ask for him, but, alas, it doesn't work that way.
Yesterday I cried when remembering all the New Years Eves when the kids were home and we made sundaes with all kinds of toppings and watched a movie. This was a case of true empty-nester-itis. Katie was home and she gave me a hug. It was her idea to eat 12 grapes, one for each month of the year, and to say something good that happened in each one. It was easy to find something good in every month, and this cheered me up.
I was having a post-New York-trip letdown, having breezed in and out on Monday to see Fun Home on Broadway (Tony Award winner and a great show) and to have dinner with Jeanne, Bruce and Amanda, and to see Aunt Marge and Bill, and to stop on the way back via Metro North railroad to Fairfield, where Ben picked me up in my car and we had lunch.
When I got home Tuesday with about half an hour to change for the retirement party for six friends leaving the newspaper, I saw that the driveway and steps were coated in ice. Temporary pity-party ensued because there was no Joe to have taken care of it. I skated over to the garage, grabbed a shovel and made some indentations so I could walk without slipping, then sprinkled pet-safe ice melt around and thought for a minute about canceling but went on my way and was glad that I did because I loved seeing so many friends from the paper and wanted to wish the retirees well.
Before I left, I called Adam, Ben's high school friend who lives across the street, and asked if he could shovel so that I wouldn't kill myself upon returning home. He has been nice about helping me with some things that Joe used to do before he moved out to start a new job in Fairfield County. After four years of living at home, it was time for him to go, but did I say I cried the whole day when he was packing up to move out? I miss my roommate.
Most people in the world should have such "problems."
Reminding myself of this, I got a grip.
My kids are all great and are leading productive interesting lives. And I am alive to see it happen.