I didn't sleep well, last night. I kind of knew I wouldn't. I stayed up late watching Whose Line Is It, Anyway? -- it was next in my queue to be shipped to me from Netflix (along with season on of Dexter's Laboratory... I love Dexter; sue me) -- with Alex. We started late. I think we popped it in around 11:00 p.m. We had a blast, just the two of us. I had to call it an night though around 1:00 a.m. I had a very important 'appointment' so to speak at 7:00 a.m., and since I now don't really have a set time that I must get up now (I love being self-employed!), I had to set my alarm. I could not miss this appointment.
I didn't need it, though. My eyes popped open an hour and a half before I was due to get up. I considered trying to go back to sleep, but I know my body. Once it wakes up, it's time for coffee. Now, I'm not complaining. Not at all. I think our subconscious is a very good friend, at times. Mine never lets me miss anything important; I love my internal alarm clock.
So, I made some java, and got set up for my meeting: brought the laptop out and plugged it in. Got caught up with my FBF (FaceBookFamily), checked emails and then back to Facebook... to wait for my -- Okay, it wasn't a meeting. Or an appointment. It was just as important, though. Much more important.
I was waiting for my cousin, Bernadette to sign on. We were going to chat.
Thanks to Facebook, I was reconnected with her almost three years ago. She moved to Jacksonville, FL years ago, and through no fault of mine or hers, we simply lost touch -- many years before that, even. Those details are not really important (Well, okay -- they are to she and I). The important thing is that we not only reconnected, but we became best friends. We joke and say the docs made a serious mistake and separated twin sisters at birth. It's amazing -- I mean crazy-amazing -- not only how alike we are, but all of the things that we have in common, too. Shoot, we even finish each others sentences. Twin-speak. Smink!
For a long time, we would 'have morning coffee' together, religiously, every morning. We'd sign onto FB, and chat, sometimes very early in the morning. We still do, but not daily. It's been hard. Still, we try touch base at least once a week.
Today, Bern is having surgery to repair her shoulder. It is something she needs to have done as she is in incredible pain. She is a strong woman -- one of the strongest women I know -- and very 'matter-of-fact' about the proceedure (the only thing she's complained about really is not being able to have coffee). It's the recovery she is anxious about. Recovery time will take long time. Pain levels are a concern, too. So much so that they will be sending her home -- today (yes, it's out-patient. We both agree that is pushing it. At least an overnight stay?) with a pain pump placed in her shoulder, so she can manage pain herself at home.
Bernadette does not sit, well. Aside from the pain, she is not looking forward to being idle for so long. I can idle. Bern -- no way. That's probably the only true difference between us. She spent part of this week writing with her left hand. She won't be able to use her right arm or hand at all for a long time.
I wish I could be there with her. For the procedure. For the recovery. I simply can't. It's affecting me a lot more that I thought it would, too. I can't relax. I find myself pacing. I stop and try to think what I'm doing this for. 'Why did I come out here?' Then Bern enters my thoughts again, and I pray. I 'talk' to her. She can probably hear me. I hope so.
I'll sit down later and write her a letter. A real letter. The two of us had a letter-writing campaign going a while back. Again with work and well, life getting in the way, we let it slide. We both miss it, though. This would be a great time to rekindle it... at least on my end. I'll tell her to 'write back' using her left hand. If anything, it'll be funny to see, and hilarious to look back on; A letter from Bern; left-handed and doped-up. FUN STUFF!
So Bern, though I've already told you this, whenever you need me, whenever you are scared, when they come at you with the mean IVs and take you to cold, scary rooms, with your good arm, touch your shoulder. There I am, and there I'll always be. I know you're not one for sap, but I do happen to love you very, very much. You'll sail through this, and recover faster than you think. Attitude is a very important part of any recovery, and shoot -- your bumper sticker says it all: you are Bad A$$!
I love you, Bia! xoxo
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