Rough Patch

I hope I didn't worry you. I am sorry for not updating sooner. This weekend has been traumatic.

I spent this morning at the hospital. See, yesterday I was washing some dishes and cut my finger. It was such a thin little cut that I couldn't even find it, but I definitely felt it.

Then I saw the blood. I applied a band-aid and thought everything would be okay.

But this morning I had to go to the hospital. See, my roommate Juju has been there since Saturday night because she has some kind of problem. I don't know. Some kind of kidney stone or infection or gall bladder thing or malaria. Whatever. I couldn't really concentrate when she called me on the phone. You know, because of my finger cut. I did hear her say something about having surgery. At first I was scared she meant that I should have surgery on my finger cut. But I was sooooo relieved when I realized that SHE was having surgery.

Whew. Close One!!!

So this morning my finger was bothering me, and Juju was not there to comfort me. "Great," I thought to myself as I clutched my finger, "now I have to drive all the way to the hospital so she can see my finger and participate in my pain." I thought briefly about trying to call a friend who wasn't clear across town in a hospital, but sometimes your burden is so heavy that only your roommate can make you feel better. I wish she could have found a closer hospital, because the one she is staying in is about 10 miles from our house. Ugh.

So I went all the way to the hospital and had to deal with a million doctors and nurses to find Juju's room. Well, actually it was just that one receptionist, and she gave me a color-coded map and really excellent directions that led me directly to her room, but it felt endless because of my finger cut. If you have ever cut your finger, you know how that can be! Imagine a paper cut only two times worse. Or, like, one and a half times worse!!

When I burst into Juju's room, she was in bed looking frail and weak. She has all kinds of tubes in her body, and her room is depressing. I hated the color, and really didn't want to be in there at all. But that seems shallow, so I didn't complain to Juju about it. I mean, I had this finger cut and really needed to stay focused on the crisis at hand.

"Juju, I am sorry to bother you," I said to her as she pushed a button to raise her bed a little. "I just wanted to show you my finger. I cut it yesterday."

"Awwww, sugar...." she said in her comforting tone, although it was more feeble than usual because she is on some heavy painkillers (LUCKY her! I didn't have any such comfort for my finger!!!)

"Can you speak up?" I asked her.

"AWWWW SUGAR...." she repeated. Slowly and painfully, she reached for her water bottle, which I would have handed her if I had two good hands, but obviously under the circumstances I was in no position to assist her.

"I know! Can you believe this? Thankfully there isn't much pain."

Moaning as she stretched toward her water bottle, Juju gasped out, "So it doesn't hurt?"

"No, it isn't really hurting me, but I tell you it sucks wearing this band-aid on my fingertip. It is uncomfortable and gets in the way," I told her truthfully while exhibiting great inner strength and courage.

Juju tried her best to sympathize, but she was a little distracted. Maybe the color of the hospital room was bothering her too. I should have asked about that, but I had an urge for a cup of coffee and had to run. It is sad, but I feel that Juju wasn't really there for me the way I like for her to be.

I am learning to be compassionate and just accept that some people are narcissists and can't put themselves in my shoes.

If you want to send me an e-mail to let me know you care, please do it soon. I am hanging by a thread. I hope Juju gets out of the hospital soon so I don't have to go through this alone for much longer.