Cardiology Lesson 101...

Me: Class today? I need a you fix.

She: I am studying today with my friend. Huge cardiac test Monday.

Me: In the left - out the right - don't smoke - love sucks.

She: In the right - out the left - [learning] what Afib, Vfib, etc. look like on a strip.

Me: Afib is a lie...Vfib isn't.

Class dismissed.

I Am An Only Child...

and today is my sister's birthday. The daughter of my father's sister and just a hair of a year older than I, Sis is the closest set of female hormones I will ever have to a sibling, and that works for me. When still chubby with baby fat and wearing cats-eye, prescription glasses in neon colors, we tap-danced our way to fame in Beverly Ann's production of The Wizard of Oz - we were bluebirds, we were, dressed in itchy blue sequined body hugging tutus. Over the years we were decked out in pink feathers and purple fringe and bright yellow and turquoise satin with mexican sombreros. Sis and her family lived upstairs from our grandparents in a large multi-family whose stairs I so fondly remember rolling down, ass over tea kettle, ever so gracefully, in response to my father's beckoning whistle signaling that it was time to roll on home...I still take everything literally. Every Saturday Dad and I climbed into one of our many oversized Buicks with the leather interior and headed out to visit the family in that big, old, green house with the awesome front porch. Aunts, Uncles and cousins, fifteen in all, arrived in various groupings to sit in Nana and Grampie's smoke filled kitchen and catch up. Coffee was always brewed and polanta and pastry were abundant.

Eventually, puberty brought us all to the loading docks behind the bowling alley to hang out with Sis' friends in the hood, but back then we didn't call it the hood because that would have been an appendage of an article of clothing and that would have been silly, but not as silly as wearing our jeans with the crotch seam down around our knees - chyeah, the bell bottoms would have ripped. One evening, while hanging at the proverbial loading dock, one of Sis' friends introduced me to little green and pink men dancing on the hood of his car, but since chemically induced hallucinations neither lift nor separate and therefore serve no valid purpose in the grand scheme of things, I'll move on...

Twenty-five years ago Sis married an honest, hard-working guy, from right off the boat, who has proven to me that she is the luckiest woman in the world and after years of tears and trying, they've produced three of the coolest sprouts whom I adore. She cooks and cleans and works really hard taking care of sick people; she smokes - too much - but she doesn't drink and she can throw down a mean game of Texas Hold'em right in the middle of her husband and four brothers-in-law all conversing in Italian at a decibel level strong enough to cause bits and pieces of the ceiling to lightly dust the over-sized kitchen table that used to be in her dining room until her husband decided that they needed, without delay in time for the Super Bowl, a wrap around couch the size of a cruise ship and a large screen t.v. within which I can sleep along with a twin size mattress and a box spring and a small Volkswagon.

She believes in her family - at all costs - and our once a month get togethers aren't nearly enough. Her blood is my blood. And Sis, my blood is still one year younger than yours!

You Were Due at the End of the Month...

So there was plenty of time to attend to all of my unfinished business - pack a bag, make arrangements for your sister and tie up work-related loose ends. Imagine my concern when at midnight I started thinking that you started thinking the end of the month was too long to wait. I thought it was the spicy fish from the Chinese restaurant the next town over...or maybe some leftover blood pressure adjustments given our flight from Florida two weeks earlier. As is always the case whenever I go into denial mode, I went to bed. That lasted thirty minutes. Then I worked on some files - yes, yes, Type-A has to make up for Last Minute Lucy - then I thought I had better pack s.o.m.e.t.h.i.n.g. for the obligatory twenty-four hour hospital rotation. Looked for this, looked for that, screw the packing, I decided to shave...my legs...couldn't see them, but went for broke regardless. All creamed up and on to the kitchen to call anesthesiology. The nurse on duty gently suggested that I wanted to call my obstetrician, but no, I insisted, I called anesthesiology ON PURPOSE and I wanted the anesthesiologist ready and waiting for my arrival. (They talked about that one for months.) Then I called next door to let them know that I needed a responsible adult to attend to your sleeping two year old sister because I was heading to delivery. Twenty minutes later, Auntie asked "Who was that?" and Uncle responded "Amy..." pregnant pause (pardon the pun, but it WAS 2:30 IN THE MORNING) then, leaping forth, excitedly announced "We gotta go - we're having a baby." WE? Look it guys, I'm all about equality, but I gotta draw the line when it comes to passing a seven pound bowling ball through a space the size of a straw. There is no WE. There is me and one ubiquitous, let's-get-this-show-on-the-road uterus. And the anesthesiologist. But I digress.

While subjecting Uncle's hand to the death-grip with each mounting contraction - and every woman throughout the history of humanity who has entered into labor unmedicated KNOWS what I mean - we watched as Dad backed down the driveway, without us, drove back into the driveway and ran into the house howling "I gotta pee like a racehorse." ( Don't know...never saw one ) By 3-ish we were in the birthing suite, where apparently nobody in anesthesiology took my humble request with any seriousness as the anesthesiologist was no where to be found as he was busy, attending to a slew of needy accident victims in the E.R., imagine...and I was refusing to breath feeling less than important...Get over it, I know, I know. However, I was waiting for the anesthesiologist and that was that.

You were not.

At 4:45 a.m. you spontaneously erupted into the arms of the half-dressed obstetrician who literally caught you by the leg, at the ankle, with one gloved hand and clogs on his feet - with no socks. I haven't worn clogs without socks since. He was wonderful. You were perfect. We relaxed.

The anesthesiologist arrived at 5.

Happy 19th Birthday My Middle One - You are so very special and I love you the most.

P.S...

I am sad that you were sad after we spoke.
I thought of it as the start of a new beginning.
Our personalities are what they are and that may explain why we handle things the way we do.
You know that I, too, was heavily invested in our friendship which may explain why I reacted so strongly.
I have never discussed our breakup with anyone and when asked I said that my time commitment with sun was the reason.
I am glad that you have friends who support you and who knows -- maybe I can still be one.
I wish you peace, happiness and prosperity.
I remain as always...

She Heard...

I was glad we spoke today.

It did bring back better times.
Hope everything works out.
Speak to you soon.

She Said:

Hey. I actually felt really sad after we spoke. I do understand your reasons, but leaving the way you did, both times, hurt - alot - and I have never been very good at letting go of the parts of my life that were as important to me as our friendship. I'm still not...but I remain surrounded by those who saw me through the past four years for who I am, not someone they wished me to be, and because of this I won't have to let go.

Though still a work in progress, I am better now - in many ways - but there will always be only one beachfront property in Paris.

Be at peace and prosper, Yesh, for that is your choice and you deserve no less.

As I Look Out My Window...

All I see is gray. Now don't get me wrong. I like gray. It is the color of elephants - happy, fat and wise. But I am ready for some of this:
Can't you just smell them blooming? I think I'll close my eyes and breath in the idea of Spring...and go eat pizza with my Mom.

The more things change...

you know the rest. It has been one year, to the day, the Friday before President's Day, that life crashed. My health, my work, my sanity - all lost, for a little while. Months of convincing myself that I was in here somewhere and, after returning to my professional comfort zone - surrounded by the most amazing, intelligent, and creative professionals - I returned. Still chasing my future, but grounded in the present. Still anxious, but working on it. Still waiting for the gargoyle's other foot to drop. Man, she is the b.i.t.t.e.r. in my coffee.