I shouldn’t have.
But I had to.
I needed to see people, spend time with people, and experience a normal night with… people.
With the unending stress and mayhem that life has seemed to be for the past few months, and with so much work to get moved, and unpacked, and settled, and with the pictures hung, and no more trips back and forth to our old house, or our storage unit, or the trash dumpsters, or to Goodwill…
I was just at that point. I needed to see people. I’m an extrovert. It’s how I get right mentally and emotionally once more.
“This can’t wait. Let’s get you into surgery first thing, Monday.”
In that moment, it wasn’t the word “surgery” that gave me pause. Oh heck, no. I would have handed the doctor a hacksaw, held out my arm, and declared “take it off now!” if I thought it would end whatever this is I’ve been going through.
What gave me pause was realizing just how bad it was, just how bad it was getting, and that I probably should cancel my friends coming over that weekend.
But, I had to see people. Doped up? Sure. Unable to move much? Why not? A complete turd of a vegetable sitting on the couch when they came over? Most likely. But I had to see people. So, I told my friends Devin and Daniela what was going on. I told ‘em I’d still love to see ‘em. And I told ‘em we’d have to keep it super low-key and chill. “Bring your bathing suits!” I said. “Let’s hot tub it up.”
Why not? With all my sits-baths I’ve been taking, I saw no harm in hot tubbing. In fact, it’d probably help my bum.
I just didn’t expect to wake up after the hot tub, with my head resting on the ground next to a public toilet, staring into the faces of my friends as they frantically repeated my name, “Dan, Dan, Dan. Come back to us, Dan.”