a story to tell..."the accident"

I have a story to tell. It's one that I've put off for a while because some thought that it was better to suppress it and move on. It is not better to suppress it. It's better to assess and deal with it.

This story is simply referred to as "the accident." The accident happened in July. It is an event that tainted the rest of the year. Somehow, I ended up agreeing to go on a cruise with a man about whom I knew very little. I had just recently met him. We'll call him Hugh. It's not his real name but it allows me to claim that the story is fictional. We'd hung out a few times. He was funny and charismatic. He loved to laugh and had a positive outlook on life. He was very emotional and had just recently come out of a relationship. He was ready to play the field--or so he thought. I definitely wasn't looking for anything serious.

His girlfriend and he had broken up a couple of months before the cruise. Now, he had an available ticket. The reason for the cruise was that a couple of Hugh's friends from college where getting married. The wedding was on the ship while the ship was in dock. Each invitee had the option of attending the wedding and debarking before the cruise left or they could attend the cruise for the 4 days. Hugh had opted to go on the cruise. After all, he'd never been out of the country. The Bahamas sounded like a decent destination to start off with.

I told him early on that we would either get along very well or we would have an extremely volatile relationship. Our first fight was just a few weeks in to hanging out. It was over the cruise. I was hesitant about going on a cruise for many reasons. One, I didn't know Hugh all that well. Two, the thought of being on a massive ship with a bunch of people and not being able to get off was petrifying. Hugh was not happy that I was so hesitant. He immediately got upset. Much more upset than I expected. The situation was resolved by me saying that I would go on the cruise.

The day finally came. We got on the ship and attended the wedding. It was very nice and small. The reception had great food. The first night on the boat was pretty good. We had dinner with all the other wedding party. The ship swayed gently side-to-side. I was taking Dramamine, just in case. The thought of puking for a few days straight wasn't all that appealing. We went and hung out a couple of the bars on the boat. Hugh did karaoke. The crowd loved him. He was quite the entertainer singing 'Brown Eyed Girl'. We went dancing and had a good time trying to balance and dance at the same time. We woke up the next morning to a still ship. We were docked in Freeport. We got off the boat to do some sight-seeing.

The island was beautiful. The water was a clear greenish blue color. We saw mopeds for rent at the dock and decided that it would be fun to have one of those to ride around the island. In hindsight, this thought was ridiculous. Riding around on a moped on an island that we are unfamiliar with and we have to drive on the left side of the road. When we got to the rental place, they had me sign all the paperwork and off we went. I ran over the grassy area as we started off. We laughed and I got the hang of it and off we went. I drove us to the shopping area. We got there and were proud that we made it there safely.

Some of Hugh's friends were at the shopping center. We met up with them and walked around. We slipped into a hotel pool to cool down a bit. It was a good time. We left early to head back to the ship because we knew we needed some time to get back to the port. I asked Hugh if he wanted to drive us back. I second-thought that offer but then I thought that he deserved to have a chance to drive. We got halfway back to the port and it happened.

It's all very blurry really. I remember telling him to slow down. The curve was pretty sharp. He was in the far left lane (the slow lane) and slowly coasted into the right lane. I'm still yelling for him to slow down. He doesn't. We keep drifting and hit the curb. We both are airborne. I hit the ground and it knocked the breath out of me. I'd flown further than he had. I get up and go towards him. The traffic has come to a halt on the streets. Both of use had landed in the median. I went over to him and was pissed. Then I see him, just laying there. His eyes were closed and his mouth had blood in it. He'd chipped his front tooth. I wanted to shake him. I keep pushing on his shoulders until a woman came and grabbed me and told me not to move him. She was a nurse from the U.S. He had landed next to a tree. I wasn't sure if he'd hit it but his face was all scratched up. The nurse asked me how bad my knee was. It was only then that I realized that my knee was bleeding pretty badly. I took a towel and wrapped it around my knee. I was awake. I wasn't concerned with me. I had Hugh who wasn't awake. The nurse asks him what his name is and he tells her his last name. By now, the ambulance has arrived. The police follow soon afterwards. The ambulance stabilizes his neck and gets him into the bus. The policeman asks me questions and I can't think straight. The cop interrogates me as the EMT is putting alcohol and peroxide on my knee. I'm cursing at this point. My knee is gnarly and hurts as the EMT is trying to clean it. The cop assumes that I'm cursing at him although I'm obviously clutching my leg and crying. I have to limp over to the officer and apologize. He writes down the police report wrong--which I only find out a few weeks afterwards. I get in the ambulance and ride to the hospital.

At the hospital, I try desperately to contact the cruise ship to tell them about the accident. They finally find a member of the wedding party and tell them. At this point, I have no idea if Hugh is going to wake up. The CAT scan and MRI reveal something--but there's no neurologist, much less a neurosurgeon if there is a real problem. The doctor tells me that he's not sure what's wrong. I decide to go back to the ship to gather our stuff. It doesn't look like we are going to be back on the boat in the next 24 hours.

I get to the ship and Hugh's best friend is giving me lists of people to contact: Hugh's parents, etc. I unable to walk at this point. My knee is throbbing and I've just gotten the minimal treatment by the ambulance. I hadn't been seen at all at the hospital. I'm in a wheelchair on the cruise ship. I get to the room and the bride and groom and some others help me pack. I have to pack quickly. It was 7pm and the boat was supposed to be pulling out of the dock at that time. I was holding up the whole ship. As I'm getting off the boat with all the suitcases, Hugh's best friend (we'll call him Tom) continues giving me instructions. He can see that I'm totally overwhelmed and scared. At the last minute, he gets off the boat with me.

We go back to the hospital and Tom starts contacting Hugh's parents and others. He calls to find out if Hugh has insurance. We can't find an insurance card in his wallet. I wait for hours to be seen by a doctor. I finally get in and the doctor puts a stitch in my knee and cleans up the wound. It was quite painful. I tell him that I don't need pain meds cause I have to be coherent for this whole ordeal. At 10pm, Hugh is still out. Well, in and out. At certain points he wakes up and yells at the nurses. "Take this shit out of my fucking arms! Take it out!" It's heartbreaking and difficult to watch. They keep kicking me out of the room. About an hour later, I beg for pain meds for my knee. The doctor gives me a shot in the butt. I have to say-- I prefer pills. By midnight or so, the decision has been made that Hugh needs to be life flighted back to the U.S.A. The doctor's assessment was that there was bleeding in the brain. Although, this diagnosis later proved to be inaccurate, we had no choice but to go back to the States to get better health care.

Tom and I debate on who should go back with Hugh. The airplane can only take the patient and one guest. Tom says that since I'm hurt, I should go. The ambulance shows up at the hospital to transport us to the airport. The airplane is waiting. They get him into the plane and tears stream down my face. It's 2am and I'm exhausted. I sleep a bit until we land in an airport to go through customs. I have to take my passport and Hugh's birth certificate through customs and immigration. They gave me a talk for Hugh not having a passport but it was a indisputable point with Hugh semi-conscious and it being the middle of the night.

We finally got back home around 6am and were immediately taken in an ambulance to the local trauma 1 hospital. I had to meet his parents for the first time at the hospital emergency room with their son semi-conscious. What a hell of a way to meet the parents. Hugh was still not awake. He was re-examined. The neurologist said that he had two bruises in his brain. Frontal lobe. He finally woke up that evening. He even recognized me. He fell back asleep soon afterwards. He was in the hospital for about 4 days. Everyday, I tested his memory. It was spotty. He could barely remember 2 hours before. After a while, he got frustrated with the fact that he couldn't remember. The best part was that I could tell him the same stories or jokes time after time and it was all new to him every time. A captive audience. He got progressively better. He had lots of visitors. I had to wake him up by pushing on his sternum. They let him out of the hospital and he spent the next week living at his parents' home. From day to day, his memory got better.

I was in physical therapy by now. I was walking with a cane initially. Soon, I took to the limping without a cane. The pain was present everyday. I had some pain meds from the hospital at home where I was re-examined. I could barely bend my knee at all. I had to keep it straight sitting at my desk at work. It took about 5 months for me to be able to bend it like I could my other knee. Still, it gets sore and stiff every once and a while. There are days that I wake up with it super stiff. I feel like an old lady who can tell the weather depending my knee soreness. It's moderately amusing.

There were lots of ups and downs after the accident. Hugh needed more reassurance than before. I'd taken care of him every single day since the accident. I finally spent one evening alone and he forgets that I was there the whole week. The next day at work, I have to get him to call his father to come take care of him. Hugh just went off the deep end. It's common in head injuries but not something that I commonly have to deal with. He was readmitted to the hospital following a psych evaluation. He got out of the hospital after a few days. Things looked up from there. And there the fighting ensued.

He'd said some horrible things to me during the time that he doesn't remember. He had intense times of being very angry. I cried way too often. By the time he started feeling better, I needed a break from it all. I couldn't be a constant caretaker anymore. I needed a breather. It'd been two months. Hugh didn't understand that. He wanted me to try harder on our relationship. But he'd had no idea how much I'd done in the past two months. After all, he had no memory of it.

The downward spiral continued. He wanted to "get back to how it was before 'the accident'". I told him that it was not possible to do that. You can't just erase experiences that you've had and revert to a previous existence. We seemed to disagree more often than not. He kept in all of his thoughts and emotions though and I only heard what he really thought when he already was angry. I don't receive being yelled at well when the same thing could have been communicated more effectively however many weeks ago that it was that it occurred to him. He'd complain that I wasn't caring enough. That I wasn't like I was before 'the accident'. And he was right, I wasn't.

Ultimately, my initial assessment was right. We would get along well--like we did in the beginning--or we'd be extremely volatile. Post-accident was volatile. But that's the story of the accident. One hell of a story with one hell of a scar that reminds me of it everyday.

disrespectful people.

It kills me that some people feel so justified in being assholes. The worst kind of a relationship is one without mutual respect. What's worse is when you fail to realize that the other party doesn't respect you until you're in too deep.

So here I am, crawling out. Walking away because I deserve respect.

Dog Walking.

Today was my first day to volunteer at the local animal shelter. There's a wealthy woman who recently passed away and left a large sum of money in her will for an animal shelter. The animal shelter was opened years ago but the money from the will has allowed the organization to get a better facility. The facility cost millions of dollars but has provided a great animal shelter for the community.

I volunteered there to interact with the dogs. Since I no longer work with the rescue back home, I thought volunteering at the local shelter would be the next best thing. I have since learned that fostering and working in a shelter are two very different things. The manager of the shelter had called me and told me that they were very interested in my desire to train. I wanted to do basic training with the dogs at the shelter so that they knew the basics: sit, heel, stay, lay down, etc. After all, I'd taught most of my fosters some basic training. I arrived at the center excited about the prospect of training. They wanted me to be a dog walker. This means I take out the dogs and walk them around. Play with them and give them some people interaction time. Three hours later, I left deflated.

I started with the most difficult case. I can't remember her name right now so I'll call her Lola. Lola was a small frightened little Australian Shepherd-looking dog. She cowered towards the back of her cage as I open the gate to take her out. I slowly approach talking quietly amidst the barking of all of the other dogs jealous of her attention. Her legs are shaking uncontrollably. She's absolutely petrified. The barking just resounds in the concrete room. I get the slip leash on Lola and attempt to lead her out. She resists and sits. The barking continues. I realize that we are going to get no where in the commotion so I lean over and scooped her up rushing out of the room. Outside, I attempt to walk Lola. She resists. So, I sit down next to her petting her and talking quietly. Her legs finally stop shaking. I think we are getting some where so I get up to see if she will walk with me. She starts shaking again and resists. It's not going to be that easy. So I give in. Maybe I'm not going to get to walk her today. Today is for just petting. I put her away and get another dog. This time a bigger breed. This dog actually walks on the leash with me. She has just been treated for heartworms so she has to be kept calm or she could go into cardiac arrest. We walk. I ask her to sit. It took a couple of times but she was beginning to understand the concept. Then the next dog and the next.

Few of them liked the kibble with which I was attempting to teach "sit." Few of them achieved actually sitting. Some of them had no desire to please-- which would have made it easier to train. I was facing a much different situation than I had imagined. I also realized that I might have 10 minutes a week with these dogs if I kept up the same schedule. I'd only be there on Saturdays and I'd have to work with as many dogs as possible during the 3+ hours I'm here. There was no way that I was going to see the same kind of results that I had with my fosters who lived with me 24 hours a day. And it was likely that some of the dogs would be adopted from week to week. Adoption is ultimately good but not so great if I only see the dog once a week. It bummed me out a bit.

Still, I think I'll go back and volunteer again. Every little bit helps. Getting them out and interacting. Being around the shy, fearful dogs. Teaching them to trust again. It helps.

quotes from another time.

Love is strong yet delicate.
It can be broken.
To truly love is to understand this.
To be in love is to respect this.

- Stephen Packer -


Love is a decision not an emotion or feeling,
that if made from the heart will outlast anything...

- Raul and Samantha Juarez -


The thing about falling in love,
is that if you do it right,
you never have to hit the ground.

- Kendall Lepitzki -

rocking the boat. still.

I can't sleep right now.

I just got off of a 4-day cruise. And I guess I don't have my land-legs back yet. Then again, I guess I never really found my sea legs either. The waves were rough on the last day of the cruise. We had a "day at sea" returning from Cozumel. That day was a day of hell. The seas were beating up the ship. The waves were 12+ feet. The ship was literally rocking back and forth. It wasn't a gentle rock--not a soothing type of thing at all. Everyone walked side to side-- or stumbled, rather. I felt like I was drunk when I woke up at 8am on Sunday morning. The winds had shifted during the night and the boat rocking was well upon us.

My mother was a speaker at a conference on the ship. Her second talk was Sunday morning at 9:30am. I woke to the sound of her puking at 8am. I had to fight the rocking boat and go find the event coordinator to tell her that-- unless she wanted my mother periodically puking through her speech--she would have to cancel my mother's talk. Kindly, she canceled the talk. I stumbled to the cafeteria to get some bread for my sickly mother. I felt drunk the whole time I was walking. It was a relief to be back in the room and sitting on my bed where at least I didn't trip over myself each time the ship tipped. I swayed with the boat sitting in my bed. I finally got up in the afternoon to go watch football at one of the bars. Somehow, people were still drinking while the waves abused the sides of the ship and my insides. Mother never made it out of bed until Monday morning when we debarked.

Saturday was great (we spent most of the day shopping in Cozumel) except for that part were I got a horrible migraine. It was one of those that came on slowly but knocked me on my ass when it hit me full on. My migraine kept me in bed all evening Saturday. Good times.

But here I sit, after I'm off the damn boat, still not feeling so well. I keep feeling like I'm on the boat. Like the "boat" is still rocking. I lie in bed and feel like the world is violently rocking. I sit in a chair and feel like I'm on the verge of falling off if the "boat" tips too far to one side.

If I never go on a cruise ship again, it will be too soon. Well, unless there's a shit-ton of cash (with no taxes) involved.

officially the last.

It's nice to be back in the city where I grew up. It's nice to get to see some familiar faces and catch up with people who I haven't seen in years.

I met up with a friend of mine from high school tonight. We were close friends. There was a group of five, and sometimes a sixth, of us who always hung out. We went to each other's houses. We had lunch together everyday. We were a tight knit group.

The first of the five of us got married right out of high school. The second one got married just a year ago. A third just got engaged this past year and I just found out tonight that the fourth plans to be engaged in a matter of months. And that leaves the fifth. The lonely fifth. Me.

And the thing is that I don't think that it really bothers me but it induces some kind of response in me that made me think about blogging about it on the drive home. Maybe it's just something to blog about. Or maybe, just maybe, I might be wondering if I am too cynical. That in itself is scary for I don't really think that I'm ridiculously cynical. Definitely more cynical than most but not over the top. Or so I thought. The other thing is that it's not like I'm even in a healthy enough relationship that I would even consider marriage. Then again, I guess you have to have a relationship to start with before you can deduce how healthy it is.

I'm not jealous though. It just reminds me of the time that I have "wasted" in my life. I spent three--almost four--years in a job that didn't make me happy. I spent those same years not going back to school to do something different. On the other hand, I don't regret that time spent. I got to meet some great people and have some experiences that I would not have otherwise.

Still, it's bittersweet to be the last. I encourage myself and tell myself that I am pursuing my dreams. That I am looking for my place in the world and that it's not until I find my niche that I can even think about a partner. A partner? What the hell am I thinking? I don't need anyone. Obviously, all of my past relationships have worked out swimmingly and since I seem to be the common denominator between them all.... must be me.

It is a little bit depressing though that I can't seem to sustain a relationship. There's probably many factors to that--namely, fear. Fear of that commitment and fear of making the wrong decision. I never want to feel like I'm settling. I want to be swept off my feet but it's ridiculous to even hope for such a thing. And I've never wanted marriage. It feels like everyone falls into the mold though. You grow up. You go to school. You get a job. You get married. You procreate. You raise them. You retire. I just don't know how appealing that mold is to me. I am a cynic and a skeptic of such things. I think that I'm okay with this. But it's like in any non-competitive sport-- last is still last and it still blows to be last.

And happy new year.

It's a new year and it's been too damn long since I last wrote. I say that mostly because I've wanted to write and I've had thoughts to write about and just haven't. So, I'm breaking that silly little habit and sitting down for a bit to write.

Well, I am back to my hometown now. Dad had his surgery and is getting around really well for just a couple of weeks after surgery. He was over using the walker in the first week. I think a walker must be more damaging to the ego. He did the two cane thing for a bit but now is down to one cane. He's definitely doing well. He probably enjoyed being catered to in the beginning-- I'd get up in the morning and make him breakfast. Eggs and toast only because, as a vegetarian, I don't even know how to cook bacon. Tant pis for him. Anywoo, I think he didn't like being cooped up and unable to drive himself around. Now, he just uses my car since I work all day--remotely for the same company that I've worked for the past 3.5 years.

He's doing well though so I have the itch to travel. I think I might take some time to go visit friends. After all, working remotely doesn't mean that I have to stay in the same place. :)

With the new year, I started thinking about all the experiences of last year. I'm not really one of those "oh my god, I need to make new year's resolutions and do everything different this year to make things better" kind of people. I only reflected on last year at all because I know someone who really thinks that the new year is a marker for change. For me, the dates and years all seem arbitrary to me. It doesn't really change anything. The new year is just another day like yesterday and the day before. And most of these people who make these crazy "New Year resolutions" forget to resolve to keep whatever resolutions they make. So, really, how much of a difference does the new year make?

My 2007 was full of all kinds of decisions and experiences. It started off alright. Another year in the same job with the thoughts of going back to school but no actions to back up that pursuit. Dating and breaking up then dating and breaking up. Marking the year with my knee injury and picking up the pieces to get through the rest of the year. I made the huge decision to move home for a bit at the end of the year. Overall, it wasn't a bad year at all. I made it through the ups and downs and came out of it all with learned experiences and all kinds of stories to tell.

Cheers to the new year and its ups and downs--just like every other year.