Hubuduh What?

o dastardly deed!
2006-08-14 : 3:17 pm

So there I was, trapped on the above ground train tracks, my 16" waist (down about 18" since last Thursday) and newly acquired supermodel-esque inability to eat any food of any kind, anywhere, for any reason, as the C train hurtled toward me at the breakneck, pants-pissing speed of 27 mph. I could only see but a growing green and silver blur since I've lost about 90% of my eyesight, but I could hear just fine as the incessant dinging of the impatient and bored conductor annoyed me and the honking of the way-louder-than-would-ever-be-necessary subway horn blasted my eardrums clear out my ears. Ah, well, what's one more crippling disability in the face of near-certain death? I asked myself, as near-certain death became certainer and certainer.

Perhaps I should back up a while and explain how I got myself into this precarious situation. Let me warn you, first, that this is a story fraught with utter, blinding stupidity on my part, the humiliating evidence from which I refuse to hide, so be warned it is not for the faint of heart. If you feel you must, however, do read on.

It was Wednesday night, 7:15. I was just leaving work, angry as can be. I was supposed to leave at 4 to finish my final film project, due the next day, but my self-involved asshole of a boss put me on a project of life and death urgency, then snuck out at 6 so he could go have a nice, romantic dinner with the web designer he's totally not sleeping with. He refused to answer my calls as I became more and more panic-stricken, as the project itself turned out to be leagues more complicated than it was supposed to be. I'm sure any of the people whose jobs it actually was to do this particular project would have known exactly how to handle it, but because my boss is apparently intent on my failing the most important class I've taken this year, the culmination of one year of study and thousands upon thousands of dollars, and also apparently intent on taking me at my most vulnerable, stressed out time, and just piling it up on me more and more so that he could go have a nice, romantic dinner with the web designer he's totally not sleeping with, (or maybe he's just a selfish bastard and I was unfortunate enough to be in his direct line of sight when the client called him) I was the one still at the office 2 hours after everyone had left, 3 hours after I was scheduled to leave pissed off beyond all recognition, thanking god I was the only one in the office so that no one could see that I'd been crying out of anger and frustration.

With no real time to work in the editing suites since they close impossibly early, knowing that now I'd have to take the next day off (I'm hourly, so that's good, yay for no money in that paycheck) in order to finish the goddamn project... okay, just breathe...

Anyway, I went home, where I planned on doing some laundry and cleaning my room in preparation for the ridiculously exciting weekend ahead of me (my best friend Jane was coming to visit. I see her once about every two years and we had plans to turn Boston upside down). I knew that by this time the next night all the stress that I've been going through would be done. My classes would be DONE and all I'd have was the one, full time job. Knowing that I'm going full time on Tuesday, the 15th and that classes ended Thursday the 10th, Jane and I knew that while tearing it up in Boston this weekend, we had to make sure nothing bad happened, for I'd be without insurance for those 5 days. But really, what could go wrong?

After my lovely 40 minute detour in the peaceful park behind my house, where I laid down and read on the grass in a successful effort to chill the fuck out about Evil Boss and his Evil Plan to Destroy Me and Make Me Cry, I headed up to my apartment, content to settle in to an evening of laundry and comfort food (sigh, remember eating?) and an early bedtime in preparation for my final, final, final day of classwork before my life went back to normal.

Text message from my friend Joe: "Today is everyone's last day of classes but yours! Come out and celebrate with us anyway!"

This was, I see now in retrospect, one of those life changing moments. I, however, do not have retrospect in the present, I only have... um... currentspect, so instead of staying safe at home where nothing could hurt me, I put on my drinking shoes, grabbed an apple for dinner and made my way out to the Sweetwater.

It was a fabulous evening of wine, shots, tequila, more tequila and again, more tequila. We had lots of people show up, even an old professor (not that she's old per se, but she's no longer our professor). Did I mention the tequila?

Joe didn't drink much, so he said he'd drive us all home. Bonus, no subway!

No, we didn't get into a drunk driving accident, so let's just get that out of the way right now.

So, do you know Boston? Do you know Storrow Drive? Storrow Drive is this riverside road with exits, where you're supposed to be able to drive faster and avoid all the inner city driving. It's a beautiful drive at the right time of day, at the right time of year. And in the middle of the night, there isn't any traffic and you are actually able to drive faster and avoid all the inner city stuff. So there I am in the front seat of Joe's car, there are 3 of us in the back and we're all drunk and happy (except Joe, who was being responsible). I decide, and this is where the blinding stupidity comes in, well, at least the first occurance) that it is a PHENOMENAL idea to stand up out Joe's sunroof. I mean, who gets to speed down Storrow Drive feeling the wind in her face and blowing her hair back in the middle of the night in the middle of summer, after lots of yummy alcohol, knowing that freedom and wonder and sweet relief from the built up stress of 60 days is a mere 20 hours away?

You know who gets to do that? PEOPLE WHO DON'T WEAR LOOSE FITTING GLASSES.

Gone. I made one quick turn of the head and GONE.

Now, without glasses I can see 6 inches out REALLY clearly. The rest is just shapes and colors. Those 6 inches, though... perfect. Unfortunately, most of life happens further away than 6 inches.

Let me tell you, in case you don't already know, of the sheer and utter panic of losing your only means of sight. It's truly so far beyond just a pain in the ass. It's Maslow's Hierarchy tipped right over on its side. It's immediate disability. It's really fucking scary.

I texted The Dude too many times in the middle of the weeknight as the severity of the situation sunk in (he was a dream about it, even though I woke him several times), found my way up the stairs and into my bed, and cried myself to sleep.

I slept very badly that night, but woke up with the realization that I have prescription sunglasses! Yay for hidden miracles! I wore those all day as I tried to find a LensCrafters that participated in my school's Vision One plan (this being the last day of classes, I am still covered under school's insurance plan. Yay two! Talk about timing! Whew! Just missed that one!)

At one point, after being turned away from the first of three eye doctors, (final cut of my film project? what? who? right) I sat on the bench waiting for the T to take me into town, so I could go to the eye doctor who swore over the phone she would take my insurance. Okay, are you ready for my second act of blinding, crippling stupidity? Ready? So the train arrived, and what did I do? I STOOD UP FROM THE BENCH.

I KNOW! HOW DUMB CAN ONE GIRL BE?!?!?

At first I felt the muscular twinge in the lower right quadrant of my back and thought, "ooh. well now that kinda smarted!" but by the end of the day, as I showed my final film (I was able to spend about 2 and a half hours at least getting it somewhere near finished) I could not stand up straight and I was in constant, considerable pain. I really threw it out this time.

So the next morning, armed with my brand new glasses (totally wrong prescription, by the way, just for fun, and I need to have them tightened because the second I put my head down they begin their descent down my nose and off my face, falling to the floor) I found a chiro who would take me that morning. I went to him Friday morning, this morning, and I have xrays scheduled for Wednesday morning. This, by the way, AAALLLLLL falls within the period of No Insurance For Jenny. There is the slightest possibility that the xrays will be covered, but according to what the HR person at work told me, it's not looking good.

So Dr. Feelgood over there has outfitted me with a backbrace. BECAUSE I WASN'T SEXY ENOUGH, HOBBLING AROUND LIKE A CONSTIPATED GRANDMA.

This brace, I call The Corset, because it has instantaneously given me a Scarlett O'Hara like waist and has curtailed any hope of my ever eating more than 3 bites of anything ever again.

Now, obviously I am thrilled about the cheap and easy weight loss this brace will afford me and I consider this part the one and only silver lining to this entire DEBAUCLE.

See, for months I've been saying "just wait until Aug 11th. On Aug 11th everything will be back to normal. No more stress, no more too-busy-to-breathe, it will all be perfect on August 11th." On Aug 9th I lose my glasses, I FLIP OUT and throw out my back on Aug 10th, and as a result, Jane and I spent the weekend hanging out on my flat bed and in the living room instead of tearing up the town (which, by the way, is just as much fun for us).

So that's the story.

The whole "tied to the tracks" thing was a lie. You know, dramatic effect and everything. Sorry.

The good news is, I have the most wonderful and attentive boyfriend ever to walk the earth. Also, insurance or no insurance, this doctor is the first doctor intent on not just making me feel better now, but getting to the root of all my back problems and actually fixing them so this doesn't happen anymore. I'll pay a million dollars for that.