Cannot believe I’m back here (again)

The only luck I have is the kind no one wants

Went to the ER again last week. This time was for Nate.

I’d just written out the last blog entry and gone to bed when I heard him make this awful groaning/coughing sound.

Literally leapt out of bed and almost killed myself getting to his room. When I got there, he was shaking like crazy and making that sound.

Prior to Alison getting sick, prided myself on being pretty cool under pressure but hearing him sound like that and realizing that I was alone, I panicked.

Called my brother – a doctor – and asked him what to do. He just said bring him to the ER.

Not knowing what else to do, I called Gymgirl and asked her to speak to my brother and ABFF and ran out into the street where I nearly killed both of us trying to hail a cab.

Driver: Are you crazy?! You have baby! I should..
Me: (leaping in and fussing with straps) Drive us to the hospital, now!
Driver: (eyes widen and nods) Roosevelt?
Me: Yeah. F____king Roosevelt. (still looking at son) Sorry, kid. You’re gonna be ok. Papa’s here. (try to get seatbelt on)
Baby: (coughs)

And off we went to the goddamn ER for the millionth f____king time.

After getting there and going through everything, they put us two beds away from where they put me and Alison when we first went. Felt my broken heart break again.

We finally saw a doctor who asked a buncha questions and do a buncha exams. Presently, he said that the kid had croup.

Doctor: It’s really common and rarely complicates.
Me: Dude, the only luck I have is the kind no one wants.

Then he gave the boy the exact same steroid that Alison used to take. And those broken pieces of my heart fell into my shoes.

Me: Great.
Him: He’ll feel much better afterward.
Me: (reluctantly nodding) Yeah. Do it.

Nauseated, I got up and went to the bathroom. Walked all the way down to a bathroom I’d been to a few times previously. Didn’t retch this time. When I got out, a nurse was holding the kid who pointed at me and screamed:

Him: Daddy, pee-pee! Daddy, pee-pee!

And then he clapped, because that’s what I do while potty training.  The entire floor turned to look at me and I couldn’t help but laugh.

Me: Thanks, kid.

My brother checked in on us. Then I called the Gymgirl, who lives in Brooklyn, to apologize for waking and scaring her.

Her: It’s fine. I’m in the car going to you.
Me: We’ll just take a cab. I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to call.
Her: I’m already in Manhattan. I’ll wait for you out front.

It was 2AM when we were finally discharged. And she was sitting in a car outside, waiting for the two of us. After I strapped in – parenting is a lotta fussing with straps – she drove us home, came in, and helped me put him to bed.

Her: He’ll be fine, Logan.
Me: I hope so. (thinking) It’s late. You could stay if you wanted.
Her: (shaking head) I have to bring the car back. (thinking) Why did you make it look like it was nothing for me to leave him in your blog? You and I both know it wasn’t. But you and he are a package deal. So…
Me: (interrupting) I know. I’m sorry. (pause) Thanks. For everything.
Her: I would do anything for him.
Me: I know. I’m sorry about how everything went down. For what it’s worth, you’re my favorite.
Her: (sighing) Go get some rest, Logan.

She left and I shut the gate behind her.

There’s more, of course, but this is all I wanted say on it.

Went into the boy’s room and gently put my hand on his back.

Me: (whispering) Thank you for being ok.

Location: in front of more rum
Mood: worried
Music: don’t know how to fix it now. Sorry, I’m not perfect 

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Cannot believe I’m back here

First ER trip of 2018

Took that pic yesterday.

Gymgirl was battling something and inadvertently mixed some medication and alcohol that resulted in a really rough night for the two of us plus a mutual friend. It was something I experienced with Alison after she had gotten sick because her body was so weak.

Luckily for the Gymgirl, hers was not because of cancer.

Because of that, she bounced back pretty quickly but just a day later, we ended up at same medemerge that I went to when I got that cut above my eye.

The same one I’d brought Alison to so many times before.

Doctor: [The Gymgirl] needs to go to the hospital. The ER. If she doesn’t go by ambulance, you’ll have to bring her. It may be nothing but if it’s an appendicitis, she could die.
Me: (deep breath) OK. I’ll get her there.
Her: (outside) You don’t have to bring me.
Me: Of course I do.

Fifteen minutes later, we’re in the same goddamn ER that I brought Alison to twice: Once for the baby – the height of our joy – and then countless times later for the fucking cancer.

My life is on some horrific type of repeat Groundhog Day.

Gymgirl: Are you ok?
Me: Nope.

Had to go outside repeatedly to catch my breath. And weep. One guy handed me a buncha paper towels. Another girl gave me a box of tissues.

Me: These used to be red. I had so many of them.

Gymgirl insisted on having her brother come but I wouldn’t leave until he came. It was agony.

Went to the bathroom and dry retched.

Her brother came and I shook his hand and apologized to her for leaving.

Her: Don’t. Thanks for staying.
Me: Of course. That’s the deal.

Walked home through the women’s march in a daze.

And when I got home, I poured myself a stiff drink. The Gymgirl wrote me and told me she was gonna be ok, which was a huge relief.

Alison’s BFF messaged me too and I told her what happened.

ABFF: Oh, man…You’re not the right wing man for any hospital trips in 2018 I don’t think – it’s too soon
Me: Sheyeah…

After we finished chatting, poured myself another drink and, spent the rest of the evening unlocking the bootloader on a phone, flashing a new recovery, reformatting the encrypted drive, and installing a debloated distro copy of the stock ROM.

Oh, and drinking and cursing the whole time.

So that was my Saturday. You?

Location: In front of a soft-bricked LG V20
Mood: @#$@#$@#
Music: Caught my reflection, drop the call, I’ve been medicated with cigarettes and alcohol

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You don’t have

The Doc said I don’t have cancer

Doctor: You don’t have cancer. It’s a cyst, non-cancerous and it won’t become cancerous
Me: (sighing with relief) You have no idea how good it is to hear that.
Doctor: (laughing) I have some idea. Wear a cup when you work out and briefs in general.
Me: Who knew that I could have taken away somea this recent stress by wearing tighty-whities?

I almost wept when he said I didn’t have cancer. No lie. Score one for me. The only person I told in the whole world besides the docs was my brother. Secrets are lonely things.

For the male readers of this blog, you should know that: Although rare, testicular cancer is the most common form of cancer in men between the ages of 20 and 34.2. Take that under advisement.

It only took five visits, three months, three doctors, three urine tests, two blood tests and one ultra-sound to find out. To celebrate, I made myself a burger on whole wheat. No ketchup, mayo.

I’m sick with a cold but that I can handle. Sorry for the scare; I was up all night worrying.

Crazy right? Just madness…

Location: 7:20, sitting next to a pretty girl
Mood: sick
Music: All my friends say that of course it’s gonna get better