This has been one heck of a month. (I'd use stronger wording, but I try to keep SOTB PG-rated.)
Don't get me wrong -- there have been a few breaks in the black clouds and glimpses of sunshine. Unfortunately, the sun was only out for a short while and then the big bad black cloud overshadowed it.
I don't like using public message boards/social media/blogs for complaining, but I'm hoping that by writing some of this out, it will be cathartic for me. (DISCLAIMER: Not saying I've NEVER complained via those modes of communication, just don't like to do it.)
Let's go in chronological order, shall we?
The trouble really started in late July. I had some welts on my right leg and right wrist. They were itchy. They were nasty looking. I chalked it up to mosquito bites. Unfortunately, I woke up a morning shortly thereafter and my left leg was COVERED in small welts. I decided it was time to call the doctor. I ended up seeing the nurse practitioner at my primary care physician's office. Now, I've had not so good experiences with her in the past, but I was desperate.
She took one look at me and said they were bites. Bites? Yes, bites.
I mentioned having been to the beach. Could they be no-see-um bites? Yes, they could be.
I mentioned having been to the dog park. Could they be flea bites? Yes, they could be.
I mentioned bedbugs. Could they be bedbug bites? Yes, they could be.
Thanks for the specificity, lady. She gave me some cream for the itchiness and sent me on my merry way.
However, with no concrete answers, my mind went crazy pondering the potential bug infestation. I came home and ripped the sheets off the bed. I vacuumed the mattress. I couldn't stop thinking about having to flea bomb the place, sterilize the mattress, etc. etc . etc......
{insert sunshine}: My Mom was in town visiting. I'm so thankful she was here. She helped to talk me down from the ledge more than once. Thanks Mom!
The itchiness continued. John said he thought it looked like poison ivy. Something just didn't feel "right." So, I called the dermatologist and made an appointment. My mind had already started to calm down.
Dermatologist takes one look at me and says, "Have you been gardening recently?" Um, yeah... It turned out to be poison oak or sumac. He gave me Prednizone and a gel to help with itching. A concrete diagnosis. A treatment plan. No flea bombing needed. THANK.GOD.
Luckily my Mom and I were able to enjoy the rest of her visit here after that.
Next up? You may have noticed that the ticker at the top of the blog for the Big Dog 5K is gone. Not because I lost interest in running and not because I couldn't keep up with the Couch to 5K program. I sprained my flipping ankle. Grrr....
It happened on a Wednesday night and I'm guessing that I rolled it while stretching out before running. Once I started running, it was pain city. (I DID however, finish that night's running in pain.) I just assumed I sprained it. I could still walk on it, so I figured no break.
By Thursday night, John was asking that I go to the doctor's to confirm it was just a sprain, as we were leaving for Rehoboth Beach, DE on Saturday a.m. for vacation. I brushed him off saying I was not going and it was just a sprain.
Fast forward to Friday morning while driving to work. I can't really explain it, but I had this overwhelming sense that I HAD to call the doctor. But wait -- I'd been dead set against it the night before. Weird. So, I called and made an appointment for 11:30 that morning.
That day also happened to be my company's annual summer outing. I told my co-workers that I would swing by if my appointment was over in a reasonable amount of time. Two people distinctly told me I shouldn't bother rushing and should maybe skip it altogether.
I went to my appointment and the nurse practitioner (a different one) said it was more than likely a sprain, but would order an x-ray to be 100% sure it wasn't anything more. So, off to the hospital I went. I had an x-ray and they read it immediately and let me know it was not fractured. Phew.
At some point during all of this, I received the following text from a friend/co-worker:
"There's been an accident at the Beach Party. I'm ok - about 3 people hurt. Will call later."
I assumed he was joking and my response was,
"Not sure I believe you...Shark attack?"
He didn't respond immediately, so I just chalked it up to him being funny. A while later, I got this text from him,
"Van backed over some people - not sure how many [name] badly hurt"
I knew it was real at that point. I called him immediately and he tried to explain what had happened. A van had rolled down the hill and plowed into the crowd. It was horrific.
I came home to find another friend/co-worker had messaged me on Facebook. I called him and he also told me what happened. He and others didn't want me to find out by watching the news. Curiosity being what it is, I turned the news on. The story was all over the local news.
There was a still photo of a white van amidst towels, chairs, belongings, etc... This became my visual. I couldn't get this out of my mind. I imagined it rolling from the top of the hill. I imagined what people did when they saw it. I couldn't stop thinking about it. I couldn't stop thinking about how those that were there and witnessed it in person felt. The ruminating was endless.
Later that evening, it was announced that a co-worker had died. He had been killed by the van. Unreal. I can't really put into words how I felt, what I was thinking, how worried I was about co-workers, how sad I was, etc...
We were leaving for Rehoboth the next morning, though, so I sort of put my feelings in a drawer and filed them away. The drawer occasionally opened, but I did my best to try not to let it overshadow the entire vacation.
{insert sunshine}:
I came back to work the following Monday, but not feeling quite as rejuvenated as I have from other vacations. I stepped back into a very somber, subdued, almost eerie environment. I wanted to talk about what had happened with my co-workers, but it seemed like they were further along in the healing process than I was and I felt badly asking them to revisit it. Everywhere I looked, I thought of the lost co-worker.
Over the next few days, I talked with my boss and other co-workers and started to process what happened. I'm still considering talking to a grief counselor, although talking about it over the past few days and now writing about it has been helpful. Things will never be the same. I know time will help to heal, but it will be tough. (I can't even imagine how his family feels.)
There are only three days left in August -- thank God. I look forward to September, because it can only get better (right?).
