Sari, Your Imaginary Friend (graphiteraven) wrote,
Sari, Your Imaginary Friend

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Kinda funny that I called my last entry "Still Breathing", because the next day, that almost came to a halt. 

Wednesday morning, I woke up to find my car dead in the driveway. Bob had already gone to work, and the pup needed to be let out. Then I'm running around looking for jumper cables and what-have-you, when a pain so indescribable rolled up from my heart and down my left arm, and up the left side of my neck. Rob's mom, took me to my usual doctor, but he wasn't there, so she took me to Urgent Care instead. 1.5 hours later, the doc walks in and says that he doesn't know what to tell me, he doesn't know what's going on, and I should go to the emergency room. All the while, I could barely breathe. So, I went to the emergency room. 

They checked me in, and got me into triage and into a cardio-trauma ward to check on me, drew some blood (lots of it), threw in an IV, some chest X-Rays and a catscan, and concluded that they, too, had absolutely no idea what was going on. It was decided that I was having a heart attack, so they wouldn't let me out. I've never been so scared in my entire life, I swear I thought I was going to die, and all I could think about was seeing everyone, all of my friends. Rob's mom stayed with me the entire time, all day long, never leaving. When they told me I couldn't go home, I started crying and she cried with me. Finally, after they had to draw blood again, Bobby rushed in and swept me up into his arms, kissing me and telling me how much he loves me and how he wont let anything happen to me and how everything is going to be alright. He cried a few tears with me when I begged him to take me home. He actually couldn't speak for a few moments, but then he said that he'd give anything to take me home with him, but I needed to stay there so I wouldn't hurt anymore. And the nurse guy that had been sticking me with needles all day promised me homemade cinnamon buns if I agreed to stay. So they situated me in a room all to myself, with a phone and a tv and a nifty adjustable bed and a lovely coatrack for my IV drip bags. Bob stayed and made sure I was completely comfortable. He found out that they hadn't let me eat all day, so he went around and finally talked someone into giving me some dinner and some of those heated blankets that they give pregnant women. He tucked me all in nice, adjusted my bed so I was comfortable, fed me dinner (they brought him one, too), brushed my hair and played with my cheeks a little, all the while staring into my eyes. I knew it was ripping him up, seeing me like that, but I appreciate him being strong for me. It made me so much more relaxed letting him take care of me, and letting him take charge of what was happening to me. He wouldn't leave until the doctor talked directly to him and told him what was going on, and he made sure he could get every answer he could for me. He also went to my work and told all of them that I was in the hospital so I wouldn't get in trouble. He found me good tv shows, and made them bring me something for pain, and asked them to explain the heart and EKG monitors that were hooked up to me, so he could watch them himself and make sure I was ok. (even though there was an entire battillion of nurses watching the same screen) He wanted to call off band practice, but I would have felt terrible, so he left and promised that he would come back as soon as he was done. 

As soon as he left though, the room got colder, everything on tv got boring, and i felt more alone than ever. It seemed until forvever when he came back, about 4 hours later, dead tired and as worried as ever. He brought me fuzzy warm socks and his drawing clipboard complete with my pencils and some paper. He wanted to bring his guitar and play me to sleep, but they wouldn't let him. He cuddled me, made sure everything was ok, told me that everything would be alright, but I could tell he was worried. I was too. When he had to leave again, I tried as hard as I could not to cry, but he must have felt my tears fall onto his shoulder as he hugged me close, because I hung on just a little too long and a little too tight. He knew I was terrified, and so was he. Eventually, I fell asleep, only to be woken every hour for more meds, IV bag changes, blood pressure crap, and oh yea...I have low potassium. Whoop-de-freakin-doo.

8 AM and I was going for a stress test. (echocardiogram) They did an ultrasound of my heart, then made me run on a treadmill for a half an hour, then did it again. Everything was fine. Eventually, after they ruled out everything else but a blod clot in my pulmonary vein, they decided that I could go home. So by noon, I was wandering around my yard with my puppy, soaking up the sunshine. While I was there, they wouldn't let me walk around anywhere, or go outside. And there were no windows. It felt so good to be outside. Rob came home at three and came running down the hall to sweep me up into his arms. We drove around together for a while, happy that I was home. He took me out to a great dinner to celebrate, and played guitar with me for a few and then his Uncle Johnny from Florida came up, and I finally got to meet him. 

This morning my car started up just fine, and everyone here at work is happy to see me. There were flowers on my desk when I got here. :)

Tonight is the first show at Barnstormers. Uncle Johnny has heard so much about me and the fact that I play guitar onstage with these guys, he was looking forward to seeing it happen. However, just in the nick of f-ing time, I'm still not allowed to play with them. It still makes me so unbearably sad. Rob really wants me to play too (i think; that's what he said anyway) but he doesn't think the other two want me to. Kid was really worried about me too, I guess, and we went to see him for a bit yesterday and he was really nice to me, just like always. So I don't think he'd have a problem either. It's just Tristan, I guess. Apparently, according to Josh, he's really depressed again, and thinking about leaving the band because he doesn't feel like playing his drums every 5 minutes like he used to. That's sad - I've gotten to that point, and I hope he's not . The worse thing is that my dad and stepmom are coming down from up north to watch me play, because they've never seen me play. I'm just going to be a big disappointment this weekend... :( to myself and to my family. 2nd shift at Tribar is pissed too, because when we play at Barnstormers, they all come down after work to see me play. They said they're not going to see the band anymore if I don't get to play. A couple of other regulars that we have following us around also said that they wont come to see us anymore either. They said that a) two guitars give it a much more fuller sound than just rob having to compensate for the solos and the rhythm, and b) it was really neat that they saw a female effectively playing guitar, adding to the stage show that OWNO creates. There were a lot of people that happened to walk in when I was playing, and thought that I was a full member of the band, instead of a little extra sound and a pair of tits every now and then. When they figured out that I was only appearing for a few songs, they left. Which is sad. A few people have told me that they don't know why they won't let me play full time; they'd make more money with me playing because they'd sound better and there's a set of breasts to look at, too....which left me thinking, gee, thanks guy... but then I thought about it, I realized that he was right. That's how bands make their money: sounding great, putting on a great show, and appeal. People pay attention when something as unexpected as a chick in a low cut shirt with long hair, tattoos, and a Stratocaster is onstage - it's just not something that happened all the time. And the fact that I was only playing rhythm made it seem like I didn't mess up, so people know I'm not just there for appearance and that I actually add an element and depth to whatever song is being played. It kept people's interest. But now I don't even get the few songs that I was allotted, and my stepmom and dad will never get to see me play with a band like they wanted. Oh least they'll get to meet Rob. I guess I should be happy, and stop whining. I have managed to stay happy and cheerful all week, except for when I was scared that the hospital wouldn't let me go home. I can't let him see that this is bothering me this deeply, even though he knows. He's got to. Everytime someone starts talking about the band when I'm around, I kind of go hazy. Blank. I suddenly find something else that interesting to concentrate on, like the frayed ends of my shoelaces, or the bruises on my arms where the nurses gored me with the IV needles...I don't talk. I smile though, but only with my lips. My eyes betray what I'm trying to fake, and threaten to water and overflow. Sometimes I think I can pull it off, Other times I'm sure that he knows, but he hasn't said anything. There's nothing he can do. The poor guy is stuck between a rock and a hard place: he wants so badly for me to play, because he knows how much better they sound and how happy he makes me. at the same time, he's got an obligation to his bandmates to remain professional and productive, and I think that overrides his feelings for me a lot of the time. As it should; they were there first. It still makes me sad though. This is going to be a hard weekend, but I'll still look happy, and actually try to be. I'll do my best, and I'm just going to have to accept that my band days are over before they began, and that's the long and short of it.
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