The Virginity Monologues

Yesterday was a shitty ass day. One of those days where nothing goes right, ya know?

2 hours at the doctor's office, just to test my coumadin levels (should take 15 min MAX), when I had piles of work waiting for me back at my desk. That I didn't get to, because I had to spend my entire afternoon cleaning up someone's else major fucking mess.

So, the pile on my desk? Went home with me. And having been banned from the gym by my dr, following a minor setback on Sunday involving chest pains, I went directly home after work. And exercised the right to use my weight watchers flex points (which I NEVER use) and ordered myself a hamburger while I finished up my piles of work.

I was starting to feel better about life in general, and opted to continue the process of putting my room back together, since it has been in plastic bags for over a month now (the bed bugs JUST might be gone, praise allah). I turned up the music, and set to it.

Around 10, my phone rang. A restricted number. I HATE restricted numbers. I generally don't answer them (if you can't show me who you are, then you don't get to talk to me). But then I always spend hours agonzing over who it was. Anyway. I didn't answer. I wasn't in the mood to deal with whatever was on the other end of a blocked call.

2 minutes later, my phone rang again. This time- unblocked.

And I couldn't have been more surprised to see that it was....... Oscar.

WTF?

He didn't seem to have a reason for calling. He just wanted to chat and find out how life was. We talked for almost 2 hours. At the end of the call, he asked if he could see me. I agreed to meet in a public place.

Its just so nutty. His timing. I've FINALLY gotten to that place where he doesn't have a hold on me anymore. I could have never heard from him again and been totally fine. I don't think about calling or texting him anymore. Sure, I still have fantasies about running into him, looking absolutely fabulous, but at the end of those fantasies, I don't end up getting back together with him.

Why now? Why contact me at all?

Here's hoping he doesn't get around to making actual plans.

Today's Title from: Viva la Vida by Coldplay

Labels: Oscar

Oh, P.S. Guess what my total hospital bill was?

$35,000

Guess how much I have to pay?

$250

Three cheers for insurance!!!

P.P.S. Don't let her fool you, Caryn is MY doppleganger.

So, I am getting better, sort of. I have good days, great days and shitty days.


The coumadin (my super-power anticoagulant), however, sucks. I'm not a big drinker, but having my ability to drink taken away is... unpleasant. And this is not a drug that a person can play fast and loose with the 'recommendations'. Mis-using this drug can have fatal complications. FANTASTIC!


Also, I bruise easily. My super-power anticoagulant is great for treating someone who has just escaped the jaws of death by blood clot, but maintaing my blood at a decreased clotting level for several months, means that I will continue to look like a battered women for some time. I have this wacky bruise on my wrist, that I don't even know how I got it, that has prompted MANY people to make jokes about what sort of activities may be going on behind the closed doors at my house, including, but not limited to, my pilates instructor.


On another subject, I've lost a little over 30 pounds. I just went shopping at H&M where I fit into everything I tried on, something that has never happened to me before in the entirety of my life. I also just hit a major benchmark, a number that I haven't been below since I was in high school. It feels great, but it also feels a little empty. I'm still unhappy with my body and people don't notice as much as I want them to. I want to look dramatically different. And instead, I still feel... chubby. Argh. This blood clot bullshit isn't helping either.

Today's title from: Sooner or Later by N.E.R.D.

I got discharged from the hospital today. I piled all the magazines, gifts, flowers, and other random shit I'd collected over my 6 day stint into the back of a cab and took my leave of NYU Medical.

As the cab pulled away, and turned onto FDR, I found myself sobbing. Sobbing for how unbelievably lucky I was.

And I HATE melodrama. I HATE making something bigger than it really is.

But sweet baby j, I could have died.

There was a terrifying half hour in the ER when the doctor there was convinced I had a virus in my heart. When I asked him, "Is it life-threatening?"

His response was, "not usually."

So, you can imagine that when I got the news that it wasn't an infection in my heart, but blood clots in my lungs, I was ecstatic.

Yay for blood clots!

And from the beginning, my dad (who is a doctor and this sort of shit is his specialty) has very much downplayed what happened to me. Never once letting me know how fatal he personally has seen this to be, until today when he felt like I was recovered enough to know. Thanks, Dad! Maybe you could've waited 6 more months, huh?

Just as a side note- my dad was an absolute shining star of a father during this whole extravaganza. He called me multiple times every day, offered to come to New York, and basically did the whole father thing to the absolute best of his ability. It did my heart really, really, really good.

I'm not going to make some big speech about how I feel obligated to make the most on this second chance at life. I had already made the decision to make drastic improvements on my life six months ago, when not having faced a life-threatening situation. And all the changes are probably the exact same changes I would probably make now.

But I remember thinking one thing very clearly, when I sat on my bed in the ER, freaking out because I thought my number was up. I remember thinking, 'But, I can't die. I've never been in love.'

I didn't think about kids. I didn't think about a missed opportunity to get married. I didn't even think about one particular person (although I dreamed about Oscar almost every single night that I was in the hospital).

I just thought, I want to have been touched by love before my time is up. I want to have loved someone with complete abandon.

Maybe its time for me to be more open.

Today's Title from: For Good by Kristen Chenoweth and Idina Menzel

So, you haven't heard from me in a while, because, I've been in the hospital.

Settle yourself in, because this is a doozy of a story.

A few weeks ago I started to have a lot of trouble running. I couldn't breathe. I chalked it up to the sudden intense increase in humidity in New York City, the new bed bug treatments our apartment was receiving, and the just the natural ebb and flow of working out. I figured it would get better and I opted to just wait it out.

The breathing trouble did not get better and in fact, started to get worse. Instead of only having trouble when I was working out, I began to notice that stairs were getting progressively more and more difficult for me. I admitted to myself that this could be a problem that wasn't going to fix itself on its own and made an appointment with my primary care physician.

After examining me for a while, she sent me to the ER. In an ambulance.

The ambulance was not really necessary, but she wanted me to receive care immediately, and arrival by ambulance is the surest way to guarantee that.

Blood tests
Chest Ex-ray
EKG

I got asked the same questions over and over again. Do you smoke? NO. Are you on the pill? Yes. Have you noticed any pain or swelling in your calves and ankles? No. I knew what they were asking me the symptoms of.

Pulmonary Embolism. Or blood clots in the lungs in layman's terms. My dad had told me that's what he thought it was 3 days earlier when I had called him crying in frustration. I got off the phone with him and Karen and I had totally poo-pooed the idea. Blood clots? No way.

Blood tests revealed it was either blood clots or an infection in my heart. Either way, I was getting admitted. A cat scan would tell us which one it was.

The winner is: a cluster of blood clots in both lungs. Substantial in size.

And around 1 am last Thursday night, I was transported to my room in NYU Medical complete with a blood thinning drip IV, an oxygen mask, and a heart rate monitor.

I have been here for 5 days now.

The first day was filled with more tests. An echo of my heart revealed that the right side is weakened from the strain of the clots. Doppler tests (similar to an ultrasound) told me that my legs were clear of clots. Then I was approached by a woman doing a research study, asking me to participate.

The study: to find out of MRIs are better for detecting blood clots than cat scans.

All that would be required of me would be to have an MRI done of my lungs and thighs. Easy, right?

Um, not so much. I am INCREDIBLY claustrophobic and MRI machines are VERY narrow and small. The first time they sent me into the machine, I had a panic attack. But then I closed my eyes, really, really tight, and went back in, and somehow made it through the next half hour. The Frank Sinatra that they piped into my headphones helped tremendously.

Since the end of all the testing, I have just been hanging around in my room all day, every day, watching TV, reading, doing crossword puzzles, and praying to go home. I have had a consistent stream of visitors that have been bright, golden rays of sunshine.

Yesterday was the day that I lost my ability to cope with my situation and cried all morning. I begged my doctor to send me home. I attempted a compromise, and he informed me that he doesn't negotiate with terrorists. He likes to have fun with me because I'm his youngest patient by 20 years. In my current state, I do not enjoy this so much.

Tomorrow, I will almost definitely go home. My blood levels are getting closer to where my doctor wants them to be. And my elevated cardiac enzymes are going down, which means that my heart is getting healthier.

All in all, there were times when this was pretty scary. And I'm never going to be able to take the birth control pill for the rest of my life.

But do I feel pretty lucky that it was caught? Damn straight.

Today's Title from: Just Like a Pill by Pink

I still miss you. Isn't that ridiculous? Its been 7 months since we last saw each other and 5 months since our last communication. And yet, lately its been fresh and raw all over again. The 1 step forward, 2 steps back rule has never come to life quite so much for me before you. My fingers itch to text you. The only thing that stops me is imagining how thoroughly you have probably moved on and that I can't imagine that you still even think of me.

Maybe its that I've shut myself off to other men since The End of Us. And I have no one else to think about. Maybe its that you're one of the very few men with whom I've had a physical and emotional relationship with. Maybe its that after 8 months, your touch still had the ability to make me absolutely sizzle. Maybe its that no one has even come close to capturing my heart since you. Maybe its that you were the first man in my life to fight for me over and over again.
Maybe its that I loved you.

Please. Please leave me forever. Let me finally find some peace.

Today's Title from: Everything We had by The Academy Is

Labels: Oscar

I am in Baltimore. I came down for the weekend with a friend, who was attending a wedding.

Trips like these are always a learning experience for me and Karen, as we assess people outside of New York's reactions to us.

As we waited for our table at P.F. Chang's the other night (yes, I know its a chain restaurant, but we all love it and we don't have it in NYC), we found ourselves in conversation with a particularly witty and charming white bartender. Him and I sparred over the amount of alcohol in my drink, and when he said to me, "so, can I have your number?" I found myself completely flustered.

I literally spluttered, "But, I live in New York."

I was not particularly dying to give this man my number. Yes, he was funny, but I wasn't attracted to him in any way, shape or form. Just then I was saved by a vibrating call button. Our table was ready!!! I rushed away to the hostess station, eager to have avoided having to deal with whether or not to give this man my number.

However, he didn't charge us for our drinks. And we had bolted out of there so quickly, we had not been able to give him a tip. I sent my friend, Maria, back with my tip money and she returned telling me how he had told her how hot he thought I was and how he knows I live in New York, but its not that far away, etc, etc.

As she told me this, I found myself blushing. No one EVER tells my friends to tell me that they think I'm hot. This is not something that happens to me. I'm generally the one relaying that message to my friends.

I found myself deciding to take a chance. I went back up t the bar and gave him my number.

He texted me later that night, asking me if I was still out. I was not. I was passed out cold. I had a mental debate in my head all day the next day, did I text him back or not? At dinner, I decided that it couldn't hurt and we'd at least have someone fun to hang out with that knows the area. So, I texted him, letting him know we would be out that night and offering to meet up with him. He told us where he was, so we went to go find him.

We found him at a bar on the harbor. He was with a couple of other people. He was a complete and total douchebag to us. He completely ignored us and exchanged numbers with another girl that was there directly in front of me. Karen and I were horrified. He spent the entire time that we were there talking to other people, and despite an initial inquiry into what I was drinking, never once made an attempt to actually OBTAIN a drink for me.

After 20 minutes, Karen asked me if I was ready to go. Um, YES. I wanted to bolt out of there. Having not been attracted to him at all, I wasn't upset over having lost an opportunity. But I was FURIOUS that he had treated me SO badly.

We left. And I sent him a text, "Please lose my number. I've rarely been treated so rudely."

He sent me back a text message claiming not to know what I was talking about and declaring that he is not a mean person.

Whatevs. I didn't write back. I didn't care enough to.

But am I interested in taking a chance again? Not really? Would I like to retreat further into my shell? Absolutely.

Today's title from: It's beginning to Get to Me by Snow Patrol