We moved back to California almost exactly 2 years ago and since then, I just haven’t grown roots. I don’t have a big group of friends, or really a group of them at all. I have some friends at school who I like a lot, but who when we’re not at school, I generally don’t see or hear from. I don’t begrudge them that, in fact, I totally understand it. When we’re not at school we’re usually on vacation or clinicals, and we’re busy, myself included.

But the other part is that no one lives anywhere near us right now. I mean, there are people, but no one we know, that we have a connection to. My school friends, a few pre-existing friends from college and some friends I’ve met since moving out here, all live at least 30 miles west of us or more. My husband’s friends, who I only know a few of, live 30 miles to the east of us. They are nice, but I wouldn’t consider them my friends.

I feel…lonely.

I mean, I love my husband, he is my best friend. He is who I want to see every day for the rest of my life. But right now he feels like my only friend. He’s the only one I see movies with, he’s the only one I go out to dinner with. I miss having friends, having people to hang out with, to tell stories to. My husband doesn’t understand why I spend so much time on the computer and part of it is because right now, it feels like all my friends are here. My only friends.

I’m not one of those people who needs 300 friends and thrives on being surrounded by people constantly. But I am someone who is used to having good friends, who is used to being able to have someone to call or text and chat about things, sometimes big or small. As much as I enjoyed my birthday this year, it was the first time I thought that if I had tried to have a real birthday party, there wouldn’t have been anyone there.

I am suddenly an island in this huge city.

Obviously this isn’t a life or death situation, I can survive with my husband, with the computer and with phone calls to friends who are farther away, but it just feels hard sometimes. My husband is on the night shift for the next 2 weeks and I will have no one to talk to. I’ll have no one to share my days with, no people to eat with, to spend time with. And while the cats will be super stoked to have me around, I just long for the days where friends were easy to come by, where I felt like I had a community in my real life.

I’m grateful for the people in my life, I just wish more of them were closer in proximity. Twitter, skype and emails are all fine and well, but I’d kill to have a beer with someone tonight.

And I hear that it’s a bad sign when you start drinking with your cats. I’m pretty sure they’ll judge me too.

I was having a conversation with one of my good school friends about our exam tomorrow and how even though one of the instructors had graded her part of the last written test pretty hard, she was actually really reasonable as a practical test grader. It was something that had surprised me and we were just making light conversation. At no point did I mention my grade or say anything further, just that I felt she was really fair and I was surprised.

And as a side note, yes, I did do pretty well on that exam and for the record, I worked my ass off for my grade. I make it a point to NEVER brag about grades, I quietly celebrate or mourn them because I understand how people can be frustrated and upset when they don’t do as well as they wanted to.

So when me friend looked at me today and said, “well, whatever, you only got that good of a grade because they all know your sister” the whole world kind of melted in front of me.

And while it doesn’t really matter, that tester actually doesn’t really know my sister hardly at all. But it doesn’t really matter, because someone that I spend a lot of time with, someone that I think of as a friend, implied that I didn’t deserve the success that I have had. Implied that I’m getting my grades dishonestly and undeservedly.

And it really hurt.

I can dissect the 100 reasons why she said what she did. I know why, I know her well enough and I’d be willing to guess that 99 of those reasons are strictly about her and unrelated to me. But what I know above all else is that she is wrong and I know that she hurt me today.

I have been killing myself for the past month to manage all these exams, papers, projects, all of it. I have given up everything I physically can while still surviving. I am running on fumes and tears at this point. I’m coming down with a cold literally 5 days after finishing the second round of antibiotics for pneumonia. I want nothing more than a break (a spring break, which everyone one of my classmates gets next week, and which I do not get), but that’s not in the cards and I’ve been working really hard to deal with it.

So when a friend tells me that I got a grade not for all the time, energy and effort I put in, but because of my connection to my sister, I am hit all at once with anger, with sadness, with frustration.

I am doing the best that I can, and one of the few things I’ve been clinging to was how successful I’ve been this semester on most of my exams so far. I’ve actually, quietly, been really proud of myself. And I feel like that one little good thing was just swept away. Like all my hard work was devalued in a moment, by someone who is supposed to support me and is supposed to celebrate with me.

There’s no moral to this, there’s no upside. My friend hurt me today. She took the only thing I’ve been clinging to. And now I’m falling, out of control. And I don’t know how to find my way back to solid ground.

When she told us that her mother passed away suddenly just before Christmas, I was nothing short of heartbroken for her. Her mother was young, she would’ve been 58 today, and she had been married to her husband for 39 years. There is nothing about this story that isn’t completely tragic.

I didn’t know Tiffany’s mom. I believe I met her once, but I didn’t need to know her. Because I know Tiffany, and her sister. I know the generous hearts they have, the love they give to others. It doesn’t take much to figure out that they must’ve come from a family that was filled with love for one another.

Sitting at the service today, I listened to many people talk about Peggy. I heard them recount stories of her being the baby of the family, I heard them talk about how often Tiffany got in trouble. But what I heard the most, and what I will walk away from this experience with, was how freely and completely Tiffany’s mom gave love to others. Her employer spoke and read from a binder containing hundreds of emails from people who worked with Peggy from all over the world. Family and friends shared memories. We cried together because this world has lost a beautiful, loving person.

And sitting there it really hit me how much we impact the lives of others. How a simple gesture of love, a reminder of how much you care, can go a very long way.

I can only barely begin to imagine the pain my friend and her family are in right now. The shock, the fear and the sadness. But I also know that they are a family so full of love that they will carry each other through this. And when they can’t, there are many other people, people who may not technically be family, but people who are and will continue to be there for them.

Because love is greater than any obstacle, I learned that from Peggy today.

This past week has been a struggle. Finals are always difficult and this semester has been by far the toughest academically of my entire life. I’ll do a real post about it later because there are things I need to get out of my head and things I want to share, but suffice it to say that it’s been rough. But all week I’ve managed my stress pretty well and honestly, I’ve been happy.

I’ve been happy because I got several reminders that the people in my life are incredible.

I was reminded that the people in my life are incredible because my friends have found a way to help someone in need. And because members of my family seems poised to do the same with a different family. I am inspired by how much the people I love give to one another. I am not surprised, but so thankful, about how when I told my husband I wanted to help even though our finances are tight, he didn’t hesitate to tell me to do it. By how the people in my life are giving to others out of love.

I was reminded that the people in my life are incredible because I got an email from a family member with a really kind compliment that I didn’t expect. And it brightened my day.

I was reminded that the people in my life are incredible because I have a family member undergoing a very serious surgery for a very serious cancer and I’ve gotten to watch how my family and his friends have rallied around him and around his wife and kids. It has been amazing to watch and to be a part of. He is quite possibly one of the bravest people I know, even while facing something that would break most of us. And as a sidenote: his surgery is tomorrow morning and the more prayers and good thoughts he can get, the better.

I was reminded that the people in my life are incredible because all week I got to witness how they are here for each other. Because it would be easy to not do all the wonderful things they have done, to turn a blind eye and go on with life, but they didn’t. And they have let me be a part of some of it. They have reminded me of what this season should be about and how much better it feels to give than it has ever felt to receive. I’ll admit, I had gotten caught up in the materials of the season; in the act of buying presents instead of in the spirit of giving. I’m not caught up in it anymore.

And even though I am exhausted, both mentally and physically, and have a world class headache tonight, I am happy. Truly, genuinely happy.

Because I remembered that I am blessed with amazing people in my life, with amazing models of kindness and goodness. Because I am surrounded by people who make me want to be more kind and more loving. And I’m just so grateful for them, for you, and for the reminder of how lucky I really am.

I hope someone can remind you this week too.

The first year, I had no idea what like half the food was. This was a whole new experience. So it isn’t surprising that I thought the gravy (it was a thin gravy) was salad dressing and poured it all over my salad. When I discovered my error, I ate it really quickly so no one would have time to notice. Except that my husband (then boyfriend) waited until I was done eating and then announced to the whole table that I had just eaten salad with gravy. Sigh.

The next year, like every other year, my husband (then fiance), asked me to write the labels on the presents because his handwriting is illegibile. And I wrote this dad’s as To: Dad, From: Slappy and McSlapperson. I put his first and last name instead of his name and mine. And his family found that HILARIOUS.

Last year, I was seated directly in front of the menorah. And halfway through dinner, I looked up briefly in between inhaling latkes to discover that a candle had fallen out and the (antique!) tablecloth was on fire. I shrieked and put it out. But not before it burned through FOUR layers of tablecloths. Let’s not discuss why there were four layers, the answer is I don’t know. And since then there has been a running joke about how I lit the tablecloth on fire. WHICH I DIDN’T.

I was determined to make this year free from things that would haunt me next year. My MIL had asked me to make cake balls, preferably red velvet ones dipped in chocolate and she wanted them to be festive. I decided that I would meet the festive bill by making a red velvet cake from scratch, but I would make it blue instead. So I started make the batter, put in the necessary amount of food coloring and then added the flour/cocoa mix.

Funny story, the combination of blue food coloring and cocoa does not yield a blue cake. It actually yields a very, very green cake. Like Christmas tree green instead of Chanukah blue. Sigh.

Seriously, there’s not a drop of green food coloring in that batter.

So, I decided that this would not do. I would not be the laughing stock of this Chanukah dinner. So I baked another one and this time I reduced the cocoa a little and added the blue coloring, a gel this time, AFTER the cocoa, so I could adjust it more carefully. And well, it was teal. But teal is a subset of blue, so I decided that two cakes was enough, this would work.

And then I went to 3 stores to find the kind of chocolate I like to use, and got all the balls dipped and decorated with blue and white sprinkles (and put them in blue and white polka dot mini muffin cups) and brought them to my MIL. They were impressed and as expected, they laughed when I told them the story about why they were blue-ish. But in the end everyone loved them.

And I didn’t end up being the butt of the joke. No, this year I got to laugh quietly to myself as everyone who ate the cake balls walked away with seriously blue teeth. Well, okay, blue-ish.

One of my friends has Cushing’s Disease, which is likely going to require brain surgery soon. Another has a heart problem. And I have a crazy screwed up brain. When you sit down and think about it, the odds of the three of us being in the same program at the same time are practically impossibly small.

And today we three anomalies sat and talked for a while.

We talked about the reality of life with disease.

We talked about all the stupid little things we do to try to find control in our lives and how often they totally backfire.

We talked about how hard it is to get up and keep going when things seem like they cannot possibly get worse or seem like they’re never on track to be better.

We talked about how draining this life is. How exhausting it is just to live with pain, with disease.

We sat, a group of 3 people facing completely different challenges, and we shared a bond. Tears were shed, truths that had been long hidden were shared.

For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel alone.

It’s hard to describe how isolating disease and pain can be. There’s the very obvious missing out on life component that’s easy to understand and to imagine. But there’s a secondary isolation. Sometimes it’s literally your absence from events that you could attend but choose not to, other times it’s more subtle. It’s physically being somewhere, but being detached. It’s the feeling of being completely alone in a room full of people.

Today’s conversation reminded me of the saying that misery loves company. But I don’t think it’s really that simple.

I don’t think I’ve ever wanted other people to be miserable or sick or in pain just because I am. Frankly, I don’t wish chronic pain or disease on anyone (okay, very occasionally, in my head, I do). But on days like today where I am surrounded in my misery with others who understand it, I realize that I have missed company. That I do really love it.

I really think that essentially we’re all bearing our own burdens. Even if we can’t admit it to anyone else, we’re all fighting our own misery.

And maybe the key to winning is finding allies who share in those fights, in those experiences. Finding people who provide you company in the face of misery.

It’s not that I don’t have much to be grateful for, because that’s not true. Even I’m not that self-involved. I am so blessed in so many areas of my life and for that I am endlessly thankful. I just feel like I’m only able to see these good things because of the myriad of bad. And I hate that. I want to be thankful for things, not in spite of others.

But I am thankful anyway.

I am thankful for my friends and most of my family. Because I’ve gotten to witness, even today, how crappy some people can be. And without the other good people in my life, I would not be able to get up in the morning.

I am thankful for my husband. Because he is the only thing keeping me from quitting everything in my life. Because he is the only sure thing I have right now.

I am thankful for my medical care. Because even with thousand dollar medical bills sitting on the table, and sore backs and spinal headaches from lumbar punctures, I know that without the doctors I have, I’d be nowhere (which, I know is actually NOT ANY DIFFERENT from here, but at least we’ve sort of ruled some things out now, right? RIGHT?) Because I know that others can’t get the medical care I can and they suffer for it.

I am thankful for the roof above my home, the couch under my back, the heat from my vents and the food I’ve over indulged in. Because I know others are without a home and the luxuries within it.

I am thankful for the internet. Because without you, I would be fighting so many battles alone, if I would even be fighting them at all. Because without many of you, I don’t know how if I could’ve come as far and survived as much as I have.

I don’t feel the way I have some past years. I don’t want to fall to my knees in thanksgiving for this year. I don’t feel like weeping with the gratitude over the things I have in my life or the great things that have happened. But I am clinging to the good for dear life. And I am trying to be thankful for the fact that in the midst of all the badness I can still find these blessings.

That in the midst of the darkest time in my life, I can still see that there are things worth living for.

Happy Thanksgiving.

The last time this happened, was November 27th, 2007, the day I had brain surgery.

I’m glad my family is coming for the cisternogram, I’m glad for the support, but I cannot deny that the situation scares the shit out of me. It reminds me of the surgery I had, of the days of pain and fear and endless retching that followed. It reminds me of feeling completely helpless.

And, more than anything else, it reminds me that there’s an excellent chance that I’ll be facing a similar surgery soon.

I can’t hardly wrap my mind around it. I don’t want to have another brain surgery.

And yet, at the same time, I’m so afraid that this test will show absolutely nothing. That after 16 weeks of headaches, we’ll be completely without ideas, solutions or help.

It’s hard to straddle this line. This line of wanting something fixable to be wrong, but being completely terrified at how we’ll have to fix it. It just feels like an entirely no-win situation. And as much as I want to run for my life and get away from it, days keep passing, time keeps moving and the appointment keeps getting closer and closer.

I’m scared. Of what this test might show. I’m scared of what this test might not show.

And most of all, I’m afraid of what comes next.

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For the latest on Anissa, check here. She is fighting like we knew she would and now we have to wait and see. I think that Anissa would probably appreciate how many people have had a glass of wine or a tranquilizer in her honor (because, dude, we’re trying to cope). There’s also a button on the right where you can donate and help Anissa’s family with the costs of her care. And most importantly, don’t stop praying. She needs us now as much as ever.

I sent her an email last week whose title, I’m pretty sure, was the least coherent email title ever. And then I babbled like an idiot for a few sentences and clicked send. And then I sent her a tweet about it, because I was embarrassed about what an uncool jackass I was/am.

Last week I got into a twitter conversation with her where I essentially blamed her for 3 of her friends having Chiari Malformation and for my sore throat (because I have class, yo (and I was kidding, of course)). And then again Sunday night she tried to help me understand a sexual innuendo about a sausage that flew right over my head (because she also has class).

No, I don’t know her that well. I haven’t spent time with her. But she’s my friend.

And she had a stroke today.

She had a stroke today.

I keep saying it and typing it, but it still just doesn’t seem possible. I feel like someone punched me in the gut and I just can’t catch my breath. I can’t find my words.

Maybe there aren’t even words for a day like today.

For a situation like this.

For an injustice like this one.

Anissa has 3 young children.

She’s a sister, a wife, a mother. A blogger. A friend.

I know that not all of you believe in prayer or God or any higher power. But Anissa does, and Anissa needs your prayers. Her kids and her husband need them. And If you live in the Atlanta area and can help, go here and see what you can do.

Tonight I put my own problems and worries aside. Tonight I hope and pray for Anissa.

You see, while at work I got a chance to see an old friend.  When I say old, I mean I’ve known her for a while, in fact, she’s actually a year or two younger than I am.  And she has cancer, Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.

I didn’t get to spend much time with her today, but I did learn that she’s in need of a bone marrow transplant and as I understand it, is trying to find a match.  I don’t know her blood type, but I know she’s a while female (and typically non-caucasian races are tougher to match) and that she’s too young to face this future.

Just a few years ago, my friend was applying to medical school, a dream she didn’t get to pursue.  Just a few years ago, she was strong as ever, standing in the sun for hours with a big goofy sombrero.  Just a few years ago, she was just like me.  And now, her life depends upon the generosity of others.

I wish that I was getting ready to tell you that I had gone and registered myself in the marrow registry, because that is my first inclination.  However, because my duraplasty (brain surgery patch) is made from cow parts, I am permanently forbidden from donating anything due to an increased risk of the human variant of Mad Cow.  I can’t help my friend.  But maybe you can.

I’m not asking for money, and I’m not even asking for you to run and join the Bone Marrow Registry (but if you want to, here is the link), but I am asking you to just think about it.  Consider what good you can do for people like my friend, who have exhausted their chemo and radiation options.  Whose very lives depend upon the generosity of strangers like you.

For me, and more for her, please, think about it.  And even if you can’t commit, spread the word.  You’ll never know all the good you can do until you try.