I've ignored the internet and news for days and days. I've snuck peeks, and immediately regretted it. My little bubble, my safe place, it got real scary for a moment, and I was glad I hadn't been keeping up. There were rallies everywhere today, and I should've been there - I'd even half-heartedly asked Jimi last week, after sneaking a peek, if he wanted to try to go to DC. Fuck. Maybe that's what cursed this week - the last time we tried to go to DC, we ALL got sick. This time it was just Jimi, but damn, what a doosie. I'm disappointed in myself and ashamed that I didn't make it out today, that I didn't put my own shit aside for a moment to do what I know we have to do in this moment, as Americans. I don't even have any money I could throw at it right now, to help assuage my guilt.
Can I mention again - just be patient with me - how thankful I am for this life? For our Village? For the privileges with which we've been so blessed? And I am so very humbled - what makes us so special? Why isn't everyone able to have this same experience when shit goes bad?
I'm not trying to be cryptic: my sweet husband has been in the hospital since Thursday, and it's been a little stressful. Scary.
For some reason the fact that our yard hadn't been cut in weeks - because of his finger injury, and then the rain, and then because it's apparently hard as shit to find people to take cash money for actual work - was causing me SERIOUS anxiety, because I guess I had nothing better to focus my energy on? (Because I like to make passive aggressive points as often as possible: The dudes who showed up at my house at 5 o'clock this afternoon after getting a call at 3 pm on the Saturday before the 4th of July in 98degree weather? Hispanic. Did a fantastic job in just over an hour that would've taken me at least 4 hours. I paid them enough that they each got an extra $20 on top of the rate they quoted me, because they saved my MFn sanity. They tried to give me the extra $$ back. The two white guys I'd booked previously both ghosted me. I'm so excited to tell all my friends about how fabulous these guys are - I'll post their business card later.)
I wasn't going to write a novel tonight, but I guess I am. Pull up a chair.
We are so lucky to have the friends and family we have. The offers of help and support that have poured in are overwhelming and I feel unworthy. I'm so thankful to have so many people willing to lend a hand. It's really really hard for me to ask for help, to risk inconveniencing anyone. (Even thought sometimes I feel like I only call my poor sweet Momma when I need a babysitter!) I don't have the words to say how much it means to know so many people are willing to help out, to support our family.
I've been really down on the state of our nation, in case you haven't noticed. I'm eternally optimistic, but goshdang it's getting harder and harder. But for all the wrongs I see, we really are so very lucky to be here, of all places. Aren't we? I want to feel this unabashedly, but then I realize my awe at seeing my sick husband surrounded by the best technology and most well-trained medical professionals is still obtained with a badge of privilege that is not available to everyone. I remember that in other parts of the world people don't even have clean water, much less portable X-ray machines. (Do they have X-ray machines in Flint, MI?)
But we, Jimi and I, we have access to these things - portable X-ray machines and potable water. He was surrounded by doctors and nurses and aides and medicines and technology all dedicated to making him well. And he will be well again. And we can afford this emergency room visit that resulted in a 4 day hospital stay with a private room and round-the-clock care and meals and cable television and air conditioning and a fabulous view, because we are gainfully employed in jobs that offer a comfortable annual salary with reasonably affordable medical benefits and vacation days and holiday pay. And we each only have to work one job to live this American dream. We are the best case scenario for your average middle class family, I think.
Then I mentally poll my friends list - how many of you fit that same description? What makes us so special?
I just want to be thankful for what I have. It doesn't feel right, though, to have all of this when I know that it's not the same for everyone.