Last week gone, A new week to come

You know when you really have to pee?

No, I mean, when you really have to pee. Like, when you're on a road trip, and someone else is driving... maybe someone you don't know all that well? And you start to have to pee, but you don't know the driver that well, so you wait another twenty miles before you say anything? And then because they don't know you that well, they assume you can probably hold it? And then it's another 40 minutes before you finally stop and by then it's all you can do to not take off your seatbelt and spread-eagle your legs, just to take any and all pressure off your bladder?

And so the driver finally stops, and you leap out of the car with renewed energy and do that sort of half-walk-half-run that always ends up looking like a weird-skip towards the door, because you know, you don't know this driver that well, and you want to look cool, but really there are beads of sweat starting to break out on your hairline. And you know what? That sweat is probably urine. Because it has been that long.

And so you finally make it into the bathroom, and then into the stall, and the beat of your heart is already calming with the anticipation of the sweetest release known to man-kind: that is, peeing after such horrible torture, and you sit down and suddenly you realize...

...THE SEAT IS WET.

And then there's no way you can even enjoy that you finally get to pee, and in fact, you probably don't even pee all of what you have to pee, and you probably get back into the car still having to pee. Because the fucking seat was wet.

You know when that happens?

That's sort of how my week went.

It started out with such promise. The doctors told Erin she could come home this Thursday and with that said, we were in the home stretch. The home stretch of me being too scared to sleep, and her being bored out of her fucking mind.

Eric made plans to come up and visit and after a month of not seeing him, I was more than excited.

Matt the Veteran filled me in on a big event Friday night and included me in the tabling plans without asking, which some might have construed as rude, but I took as a compliment. I really felt like I was part of something important.

And then little by little, things kind of went to shit.

First the doctors decided that Erin could not come home. And more frustrating than their news, was their reasoning. Let's just say it was based on test results which had no comparison.

So here's to another week of hours camped out at Fletcher Allen. Another week of wanting so badly to do something to make my best friend feel better, and another week of realizing that no amount of cards, flowers, games, dvds, and other electronic devices, will change the fact that she's stuck in the hosptial.

Then Eric's plans to come visit fell through. And somehow, this lead to a fight. A pretty frickin' huge fight. And for the record, I do not fight with my friends. Like... ever. Talk about upsetting.

And then the Friday night event kind of pancaked. Is that an expression? I don't think it is, but it's the word that immediately came to mind. And what I mean is... it was good. It was fun. But it fell... flat.

There were people. But there weren't a whole lot of people. And there weren't a whole lot of tee-shirt sales. And Matt the Veteran's posse of groupies (ie infatuated college girls clad in super-cute going out outfits) were there, and while I find them adoreable in some respects, in other respects they just make me feel like the chump in the Cause tee-shirt and chucks, who buys the Veterans drinks and tucks them in at night, and let's face it, is past her cute-college-girl days, and somehow unwillingly merged into 'neurotic den mother'.

And then, after three encounters with a rude bartender, and four defensive plays against aggressive Veteran-groupies, I ventured to the bathroom where I was met with a crowd of college girls who, too ditsy to be aware of my presense, were talking shit about Veterans who speak out against the war, and in the middle of rolling my eyes, and sighing loudly, and saying quite audibly, "YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME," I literally unzipped my pants and sat down onto a wet toilet seat.

Yeah.

The fucking seat was wet.

And to be quite frank, it was all I could do to not just plant myself there for the rest of the night. In some downtown club's bathroom, dressed in activist garb, beaten down by the bartender's bad words, and with some other person's urine smeared all over my own ass.

Matt the Veteran was in a bad mood, too, and told me so on the way home.

"You know what?" I told him. "I can't wait for Monday. This whole fucking week has just been... off. Monday things will be fresh. Monday things will be good."

And I think it might be the first time I've awaited Monday with the anticipation of a birthday or a vacation, but at least it will be a new start. A new countdown until Erin comes home. A new countdown to yet another Veteran event. And maybe Monday will even bring some sort of resolution with Eric. Because I miss him. And as much as his words hurt my feelings (like, whoa, SO BADLY hurt my feelings) I just want to see him.

But not as much as I want Erin home.

Because if this past week has taught me anything at all, it is that Erin is my family here. Yeah we might have our stretches of time where we barely see each other because we're both so absorbed with our separate social circles, but at the end of the day we come home to the same home, and that's really all that matters. She's my closest relation within 230 miles, she's my designated emergency contact person, and she's the only person in this whole state I can completely confide everything and anything in, without judgement. In a relatively short friendship, we have faced broken engagements, anticipated weddings, murder, and soon, new babies. We've seen each other at our lowest, and we've seen each other at our highest. And, frankly, we've seen each other really fucking high.

Erin, you bitch, don't make my mascara run. Dropkick those fucking Fletcher Allen nurses and COME HOME. Me and Kathy Lee, we need you here.

Without you, it's just one big wet toilet seat waiting to happen.