So here's what happened next: I retreated. With Adam & Amber gone and nothing good to say about the state of affairs in my apartment, I retreated. I threw myself into impossible tasks, just to avoid blogging. Isn't that amazing? I, Danie D, avoided blogging. Knowing how good writing makes me feel, I chose not to do it. I mean I did try. I sat and I typed. But before too long I was under the blankets, sobbing.
I also wanted to be able to report something other than my reality. I wanted to say XBFJ had an epiphany and agreed to talk to me (or a psychiatrist) about his (our) issues. I wanted that, just as much as I didn't want it at all. I didn't want to want to get back together. I would have been ashamed to tell you. And it's like I told Kate, if you're afraid to tell your friends, it's a bad idea. Even if XBFJ had gone through a transformation, hadn't too much damage had been done? He was mean and inconsiderate and hurtful and rude. He chose alcohol over us and didn't look back. Why should I look back and try to save what he so easily tossed away? Because I loved him.
Remember when he was the "best boyfriend ever?" I do. I loved him and there had never been any conditions on that. Plus there had been a time when he was loving and we were a team. I was torn this fall, split into two people who had all the conviction and righteousness in the world. I didn't know which was right. So I hid from them both by hiding from my beloved Pique A Boo.
Instead of blogging, I tweeted. A tweet doesn't offer much, but it's enough to convince people you're moving forward. A tweet is enough to make people say "oh Danie isn't crying herself to sleep every night, she's at a game having fun." Yes, those who asked, got the truth. But few ever asked. So no stories were told and no healing was transcribed. And you know what? It happened anyway. It happened slower than I think it would have if I had written. But it happened just the same, which is what really matters. So now, without further adieu, some of the stuff I should have been sharing while I was wallowing.
25 September 2010
I had an invite for myself and a guest to go to a San Jose Sharks Preseason Game. If I had my hearts desire, I would have brought my friend Jennifer. She's the only person I know who really likes hockey. And I needed a hockey expert. Jennifer lives in Texas though. And that's cool, if you're into Texas. Instead, I brought Melissa. Melissa is my go to sports friend, among other things. But I have to admit, her hockey knowledge was lacking. I really needed a third ticket and a flight for Jennifer. Either way, Melissa & I trudged on, braving a free, catered event at the Shark Tank.
Melissa lives in Sacramento. So she stopped in San Francisco, picked me up, and continued to San Jose. As alcohol was to be served, we got a hotel room for the night. I believe in responsible preparedness you know. Our trip down was uneventful. It was our first time seeing each other in a long time. So we chatted. She drove and I navigated. We checked in to our hotel where we then sat and chatted more, just to kill time. Among the highlights in our room, the toilet and the power. Please, allow me to explain.
The toilet, clearly sealed to tell us we were the first to ever touch this commode.
A socket, which we used, because it was just so handy.
Eventually we headed to the game. Yes, I verified with Jennifer hockey events are indeed called "games." We walked there, finding real Sharks fans, and kind of hiding behind them. I don't know if you've ever been "invited" to an event. It's a behavior I learned when I lived in Vegas. Events to which you are "invited" tend to have free food and free alcohol. These are not the only reasons for attending, but they add a sense of urgency. You can easily spot the people who are "invited," because they show up early. Case in point, Melissa and I were the first to arrive that this event. We peered in the door, saw the wait staff, and started loading plates. In all actuality, there was no indication we had been invited at all. We could easily have been hungry passersby.
They come out of a Shark! 
Me & our host.
Melissa & I. It was a great event. I saw people I rarely get to see in a social setting. It was comfortable and fun. There was a raffle amongst us guests and Melissa won tickets to the Sharks home opener. So there was to be more hockey in our future. Awesome. Sporting events would actually become a theme for Melissa and I going forward. But I promise I'll get to that. On this September night we would eat, drink, be merry, go back to our hotel room, and fall asleep to me babbling about the failure of my relationship.
The next morning was rough. I could barely function. And I really tried. Having dominated the conversation the night before, I thought to ask Melissa more about her life and her ambitions. But it hurt to be conscious. I mean it literally hurt. No sooner had I gotten into my door than I vomited profusely. I did not vomit food. I did not vomit wine. I spewed bile. I recognized it from the last time I drank white wine. Apparently I have developed an intolerance. White wine is no longer my friend. Yes, I realize that's not normal and I did act accordingly. I gave my doctor a list of my symptoms. And that's how I had my first CT Scan.
29 September 2010
Do you remember my gallbladder? You know, the organ that's functioning at 10% when it should be at least at 35% in order to cover room and board inside the Danie? Do you remember my doctor in Vegas in 2008 said the gallbladder had to go? She was adamant. But my new doctor in my new city was less so. He said to wait and see. Well more than two years later, the GB is still living rent free in the Danie. I was convinced, in 2010, my new intolerance of white wine was a sign the time had come. On top of that, I had developed a pain that came every time I hate. On top of that, my liver was enlarged. I thought I was headed for a scalpel for sure. And this is why I am not a doctor.I drank the barium. I took the radioactive shots. I lay in the giant doughnut. In the end the tests showed my liver was still enlarged, but that there was nothing going on inside the gallbladder. Now that is not to say the gallbladder is functioning, because it is not. But there are no stones. There are no masses. There is nothing abnormal. There is no reason my stomach should hurt when I eat peanuts or cheese or other complex foods. My doctor showed me on paper why my pain had no reason to exist. But it was there all the same. I am currently looking for a new doctor.
