Tuesday night I had a falling out with a friend who I hadn't felt comfortable with for some time. It ended with my burning the bridge, saying if I didn't see them again in my lifetime, I don't think I'd feel any loss. That's the truth, and I said it cold dead sober. The way they treated me just made me feel that awful, and I couldn't remember when I last had any good time with that person.
Parental and family relationships set the tone for friendships for the rest of life. I tend to stick around too long after things have gone bad, or not recognize how bad things are. Best term I ever heard for it is waiting for the milk to un-spoil. I decided I was done.
As yesterday started, I was still angry. I rolled out of bed at 4:30 a.m. My brother was having surgery on his knee to repair a falling injury. He's mentally disabled and is in nursing home care. The older of my younger sisters accompanied him in the EMT van to the hospital. She needed me to get her vehicle. Because unlike our younger sister, I have time but don't have a car.
I came up with the worst plan to do this, and she didn't stop me: I would just go to her home, pick up the keys, go to the nursing home and get her SUV. Sounds easy, except on the Metrolink and buses it involved transferring twice, getting the keys, then having to transfer once on the way out to the home. The easy way to have done it was just take the Metrolink, get off at the hospital, get the keys, get back on and go to nursing home to get her SUV. The easiest way to have done it was just ask her to drop off the keys the night before. But, I wasn't thinking, and usually I have problem with mass transit, so I said I would just run by her place and get the extra set.
Instead, I would have to take a bus to the station, take the train to the end of the line, transfer to a bus taking me close to her place, walk 5 blocks on my bad ankle, pick up the keys, walk another 5 blocks on the ankle back to the bus stop (I have a cane, a lifesaver right now), take the bus stop back to the Metro station, transfer to another bus that takes me to the nursing home. Then pick up my sister's ride and drive it to the hospital.
How could I have been so dumb? One excuse is I get to read or write on the mass transit. Since I read and write for fun and for a living (hypothetically anyway) the time is never a total loss. That suckered me into getting careless with my time. And I already thought of the day, at least until four, as being committed to my brother.
I mentioned I got up at 4:30 a.m., not in the best of moods. I didn't go back to sleep. I got myself together and left at 7:45. After I was out the door, I discovered I was tired. I craved a caffeine supplement (besides the caffeine I had already taken.) When I'm fighting depression, as I was over the previous night, Mountain Dew can pull me out of it. I consider it a desperate measure though. Today I felt desperate.
That just set things up. Then things began to go wrong. First thing that happened was I discovered I had forgotten my pens. That meant I could neither write nor do editing. Then I discovered that the book I brought along sucked. I don't mean it was just bad, I mean it was practically unreadable. I was in trouble.
When I got to Civic Center Station, I felt a desperate need for an energy and mood elevator. I began sticking quarters into the machine, which was neither accepting most of them, nor counting right. As I was drawn into this trap, my train came and went. My first missed connection, not my last. Each one was like a penalty in hockey, but counted in football penalty denominations.
Forfeit fifteen minutes.
I drank about half the Mountain Dew knockoff death drink that was probably worse for me than the equivalent amount of straight gin with a gram of heroin. I caught the next train, which came in about fifteen minutes. My day seem to have recovered.
As I arrived at the end of the line, Shrewsbury Station, I could see a bus pulling out below. Because I had nothing to do for the train ride but read the bus schedules, I knew it had to be the one I should be on. I was right.
Forfeit twenty minutes.
At this station, a guy was suffering a loud psychotic attack. He was shouting and making all kinds of jarring calls and yodels. In this environment, I finished the caffeine drink, and immediately regretted it. For the next few hours, I had to piss every 9 minutes. So, I got off that bus at a grocery store, ostensibly for a few supplies (toothpaste, dental floss) but really to relieve myself.
Forfeit 20 more minutes.
By the time I walked back to the bus stop, I had to go again.
I finally got there and picked up the keys. My dad was there (my sister and her husband live with him). He was lying down, but awake. From that lazy position, he needed to smother me with hospitality and kindness. As I had to go again, he called me before I got in, I'd get out and he said, "Have you had breakfast?" Do you want this? Do you want that? I finally fled from there. And as I came in sight of the bus stop, I saw my bus pulling out.
Forfeit 20 minutes.
I arrive at the station, and it turns out the next bus to the nursing home didn't arrive for another half hour. How did they mesh the schedules like that.
Forfeit 30 minutes.
For the entire time nature was calling again. Those stations have no public bathrooms, because it seems nobody in St. Louis ever has to urinate. No, apparently all the people who need toilets moved to the county.
From there, I reach the nursing home without a hitch. Answer that urgent call of nature later, and I was driving my sister's SUV, conscientiously hitting every light.
When I get there, it turns out my sister injured her hand at work the night before and has to see her doctor. So, I would be sitting with my brother for the rest of the day and cancel my plans to do phone canvassing that night. I fed him dinner, stayed with him as the EMT transferred him back to the nursing home. The nurse and the tech, the entire staff, in fact, were so good to him. They were the one real blessing on the day.
I had a newspaper for when he fell asleep, but I was too dead tired to read by then. After the transfer, my sister, bless her, sent her husband to pick me up and take me home so I didn't have to bother any more with the Metro-torture and sit bored on the train, too exhausted to read or write going back.
When I got back I combed and brushed my cat to calm down (it works). Then went to bed. Sleep was easy.
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