Got dressed and saw a text message from Cobi, he could not make it that time. Waited for Aimee (I was actually a few minutes early, surprise surprise), walked around, asked Ellen - whom I encountered in the kitchen - if she had seen her, waited a bit more, and because it was so close to 9 am, decided to get going, so off I went.
Exited the building, took the first turn, then the second, and walked along the barracks. Spotted a figure on the ground of a dirt parking lot, from a distance it looked like a girl sitting next to her bike. A short man with dark hair and tanned skin, wearing a white t-shirt, carrying a box on his shoulder, walked out of one of the barracks and the girl on the ground waved. He waved back. A few seconds later the girl waved again and I recognized her as being Aimee. We immediately started talking as I picked up the pace. Aimee's bike went down a ditch in the dirt parking lot and she fell and hurt her foot. Poor thing. She also skinned her hands. I went to her and talk to her, and felt specially bad because she took the short cut because she did not want to be late for our gym time. She was in the practice room at the Music building (her violin strapped on her back - nothing happened to it), which I'm sure compounded on her fall by shifting her center of gravity. I helped her up, took her bike, and walked her back to the institute.
This reminded me of the last time I rode a bike, in early 2002. It was my second semester of teaching at SIU, the first semester being an extremely traumatic one (9/11 for one), and on a Saturday I received an email from a student who was not doing well in my class, asking if we could meet. As I was late for our meeting, I got on my bike (I did not own a car then), went down on the Southern hills as fast as I could, when suddenly a man came out of nowhere on the sidewalk. I tried to swerve and my front tire fell on that spot between cement and grass and I flew over the handles. Fortunately I landed on my hands first, and rolled over to my side, but in the process my bike's handle broke and my right arm too, at the elbow. I actually walked to my office (about a mile away), bleeding a little, with a broken bike, and waited for an hour for the student, who never showed up (he later told me something came up and eventually failed the class, my first student failing ever). The man on the path did not even bat an eye or asked if I was okay. Fortunately my friend Fern took me to the ER where they took an X-Ray and tried to fix me up.
[side note: because I had broken that same arm as a child on a different spot, closer to the wrist, and the healing was visible in the X-Ray, the intern doctor actually treated the wrong area of my arm, which caused it heal improperly by the time a real doctor found out. I should have sued, but was young and naive. I went to a specialist who basically told me my arm hurt because I was getting older (I was 28 years old then). A few years later, in Michigan, a specialist confirmed that I have permanent nerve damage on that arm and possibly tendonitis, but she told me there wasn't much I could do besides physical therapy, learning new habits and avoiding overusing it as much as possible, until the day I might need surgery.]
Life is so strange, and I've seen it more than once that it repeats itself, but sometimes the roles are reversed. When that happens I try to rectify what did not go too well with me for the sake of the other. I really felt bad for her, because even if the damage was not great, the trauma of the fall, that slow motion and timeless moment of remembering, stays around for ever. her foot was pretty swollen too, so there was the possibility she had broken it. She asked me to take her bike to the back and that she would go to the office for help. I did so and went to the gym. Did mostly cardio (1 hour this time), some weights (that asshole father with the nerdy soon was there again), and walked back, thinking about the blog I had to finish. Got a text from Cobi, mentioning him and Ellen wanted to go to a taco truck for lunch and maybe the art supply store. I texted him I wanted to have lunch here to save money but that they should text me when they are ready to go shopping, maybe around 1 pm.
Started a few loads of laundry (sheets, towels, gym clothes), texted Aimee (she was resting in her room, Diane was gonna bring her lunch), took a shower, and by then it was time for lunch. Chris was sitting in the courtyard, and by the time I finished making my salad, Cobi and Ellen had arrived with their burritos. We all ate together there, Chris and I talked about our bone breaking experiences (which led me to never bike again and him to not skate or rollerblade anymore), he showed me his ankle surgery scar, and eventually the conversation turned to the subject of avocado, which I thought could be a pseudo-fruit, much like the cashew fruit. Chris had his laptop and found out that an avocado is actually a berry, and that a raspberry and a blackberry are something else in the family of grapes.
My phone rang and it was my sister. She had wanted to talk to me last night, so we talked briefly about what's going on at home with our parents, which was somewhat upsetting, but she had to go because she arrived somewhere. We all left and went to the art supply store, I drove. As always, it took forever to make a left turn on St. Michaels, but eventually we got there. Five of my 8 canvases had arrived, and I easily found all the items on my list after some staff person (the same man that helped me before), guided me through the store. They were all so helpful there. We all paid up and went straight to the gym, I pre-soaked a piece of paper to try a new process and painted the first coat of paint on my square canvases. Put my brush in water, and decided to go check on Aimee.
Came to her room, and it looked so clean and open and large (she told me this was her room in a state of mess, I pictured mine and thought it looked like someone broke in), got her some water, talked for a while, we both laughed at sightings of mine from other residents in the vicinity on my way there, I got her some water, and went to the office to get some more ice and an icepack (located in the infamous wet room, which I did not have access to because I do not have a key by choice). I told Aimee to text me if she needed anything, and went back to my room to continue on the blog.
My sister called me back, she had more time to talk, and this time she told me a lot of things in extreme detail about some stuff that is going on at home with my father. Because I do not want anyone in my family who might read this to get mad at me I will not go into any specific details, but needless to say I was disturbed. I was glad my sister had shared it with me, because she was having a real hard time dealing with it, and I imagine my mother and my other sister in Brazil even more so. I tried calling home two times, did not leave a message, and no one answered the phone. I was frustrated. I became extremely sad, faced with the reality of the inevitable, which I imagined would not happen any time soon, but if I am honest with myself I already saw it coming. I did something I had not done in a very long time, not since my grandmother passed away. I sat down on my unmade bed, grabbed a towel from my gym bag, so that I did not make any loud noise and disturbed others, and I cried. It hurt. I tried to stop it a few times, but I could not.
Eventually I ran out of tears, and decided I needed to do something, so I finished my laundry, made my bed, put my clothes away, and texted Aimee to see how she was doing. She was hungry but she did not want to leave the room. I sort of told her what was going on at home - sometimes in residencies one tends to over-share their personal life with borderline strangers, much like online dating. She told me some nice things, and eventually I convinced her I could cook for her and together we had the idea of rolling her with the office chair all the way to the kitchen. Rita was finishing her dinner and offered to help cooking, she actually did most of it. I gathered the ingredients from the fridge while Aimee directed us (picture her with a foot wrapped in ice on the counter, sitting in an office chair, in a small kitchen). At one point, while Rita was sauteeing some zuchinni, Aimee stretched her arm to the opposite direction of her foot and began tossing the vegetables in the pan like an experienced chef. I totally looked like some weird performance art piece. We all laughed.
Her dinner got made, I went on to make my salad, and the three of us sat in the dining room (we'd not be able to roll her into the courtyard because of the door frame, we thought the residency should really keep a wheel chair around just in case something like this happens again). Ellen and Marisa joined us, and we all shared our stories of accidents, and I told them about my afternoon. They were all so sweet, and sometimes it is just nice to speak it out loud. The same happened on Facebook and Twitter, I made a vague mention and received an outpouring of love, which felt better than happy birthday wishes. It is nice to know you all are out there, even though we are not so close in a physical/geographical sense.
John arrived and got Aimee an adjustable cane, but she preferred using the chair as a walker. I went to her room and we talked for a bit. John wanted me to join him on some get together, but I just wasn't in the mood, but of course he did not know why. I think he's frustrated with me, I am frustrated with myself as well, but that was not the right time. Aimee did not text me, so I read some stuff online and went to bed, around 10:30, and said a little prayer for my family.
- posted via iPad
Location:Santa Fe, NM
You are the best savior/nurse ever! Even when you are struggling with your own very heavy stuff. Thanks so much for being there and here for me!
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