Decompression

Sutro Tower nerd exif data: Canon 7D, 70mm, 1/160, f/14, 100 ISO, circular polarizer

The night of the ER visit, I planned on bathing, crying, sleeping. I managed two out of three. Hot bath. Slept curled up, hugging a pillow because I could hold no one. No crying. I tried, but I suppose I was still in shock. I will say this was the only moment since my marriage ended that I felt truly lonely. I suppose I'm lucky to have gone this long.

The following morning I wrote that blog post, then got ready for work. As I gathered up my things to head out the door, I was hit with a wave of emotions and I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. But no, I was already late to work: save it for another time.

Unfortunately, I had a doctor's appointment scheduled for that early afternoon. I didn't want to go because I knew it would be triggering of the previous night. And I didn't want to have a freakout there, in the middle of the day, then return to work. But it was too late to reschedule, and I might as well get it over with, and who knows, maybe I'd be okay...so I went.

I informed the nurse and the doctor about the night before, how I was still processing it, and warned them I may have a breakdown at some point. They were sympathetic, kind and reassuring that I was in good hands.

Still, it was everything that I dreaded it to be. Despite preloading with Vicodin and ibuprofen, my routine procedure was hellishly painful. We paused three times as repeatedly I broke down, caught my breath, and regained enough composure to continue. And once I started crying, I completely let it all out, as I knew this was a safe place to do so, and it turned out to be a sufficient place to process everything that needed to be processed. My doctor was lovely and comforting and did not rush me at all. Afterward, I stayed in the room for 30 minutes or so, trying to muster the strength physically and mentally to continue with my day. A lot of tears were shed in that room.

I made it out of the exam room, and then into another room to get a blood sample for some routine tests, which went without a hitch, and then I left.

I decided to walk the 2 miles to where I needed to go next, despite the threat of rain. Walking always helps clear my mind. Since I no longer run, this is how I achieve my active meditation. I meandered along the Embarcadero, pausing to take photos, pausing to reflect, pausing because of my physical discomfort.

I ended up taking the rest of the day off from work.

And I realize that the previous night was not my emergency, it was that of my friend's. And her experience of trauma must be through the roof, or who knows really, considering everything else she's already been through. I feel a bit silly that this affected me so much, but I can't help it. Seeing such distress is, well, distressing! I'm grateful that the worst of this experience is behind me. I processed it as best I can. Unfortunately for my friend, she was back at the hospital yesterday for a battery of tests. I'm so worried about her. Results aren't in yet, but fingers crossed that all she needs is rest.