Day Fifty-Eight
I took what I believed to be a second sleeping pill in the night, because, although I was very tired, I was having trouble sleeping. In the morning, though, my thyroid pill looked very much like my sleeping pill, and I realized that I had taken my thyroid pill early. It's a good thing I caught myself before I took the sleeping pill in the morning, or I would have been completely wiped out for the day--one of the most important days of my son's life.
I don't know how long it was, but it seemed like hours that I lay in the nice hotel bed, fully covered and warm, but shivering violently with the chills of a fever. Every now and then, I would force myself to stop. I'd turn over or change position in some way and will my limbs to be still. But I could only hold that for a few seconds before the violent trembling would resume.
Our alarm was set for six, but I woke up a few minutes before that and started my morning routine. The hotel breakfast also started at six, and we had to all three get ready, get packed up to check out of the hotel completely, and get fed in time to get to my son's apartment well before eight.
I had wanted to wear a new pink shirt dress I had bought, but when I'd tried it on at home, I still couldn't get the buttons fastened. I was relieved, however, to see that it was a large instead of an extra-large, as I had thought. We had been cautioned to wear light material, anyway, and the material on that dress was a bit thick. I will look cute in it someday. Instead, I had brought a skirt that had been my mother's--to bring her to her nineteenth grandchild's graduation--and a simple white-tee-shirt-only-nicer type shirt. I didn't look great in this outfit--I'm still too lumpy and thick through the middle, but it was all I could do. And, for part of the day, at least, I could hide behind the new Stanford jacket I had bought--also in a large, which, fortunately, did go down over my body. I had a few compliments that it looked good on me.
I took two things of folded eggs at the breakfast, two slices of small round ham about the size of a tennis ball, and something I almost never have--orange juice. I figured I could use the vitamin C. Yesterday on the plane, I had tomato juice for my drink. I thought it would be good to get my stomach full, as I didn't know how much else I would get to eat today, but I found I could not finish my second folded egg. I was also antsy to get going. Those who arrived early enough could get a ride to the stadium. I was not feeling well enough to walk.
We were lucky enough to get a ride, but we still had to walk a couple of blocks from where we were dropped off and climb about a hundred stairs to the top of the stadium. I was cold at first, although I was wearing my new, expensive Stanford jacket I had bought at the bookstore yesterday when we also bought Mark's hat. But when the sun came out, it really came out. I took off the jacket and put on sun screen.
Because we were at the stadium early, we were in charge of saving enough seats for my son's wife, daughters, dad, and in-laws. I started to worry about my other children, too. I figured their dad would arrive late, and I didn't care if he (finally) had some natural consequences for his poor planning, but I wondered what my youngest children would experience. My daughter told me, about a half hour before the event was to start, that her sister had just posted a Snapchat that showed her location to still be in the town of their hotel. On the other side of me were some empty seats, too. I suggested she text them that we would save them seats. She also mentioned, a few minutes later, that her sister had bought a gift that might not be allowed past security, with their "clear bag" policy, and that they were planning to leave right after the first ceremony for the entire university and not stay for the convocation, where my son would be hooded. I thought about it for a few minutes, then invited my daughter to text them that, if they wanted to stay for that, it would be all right with me if he brought them back to me a little later. My son's college was holding its convocation right after the first ceremony, and my son was the first candidate on the list, so I figured this would add about an hour to their arrival time.
When they arrived, they appeared to the right of me, instead of to the left of us, as we had anticipated. I moved down four rows and welcomed my young sons to sit next to me. Their dad sat next to them, leaving my younger daughter on the very end. He turned to me with emphasis to let me know he was going to speak to me. I looked at him.
"My being here is only as a favor to you," he said, with energy. "You do not get to make demands on what I do afterward. I have my schedule that I have to keep and have to leave afterward."
Once again, totally misunderstood. "That's fine. You have to make your decisions. I just wanted you to know that you could stay if you wanted to, that it would be all right with me."
He continued to insist that it had been presented to him as a demand, and I had to again deny that. My younger daughter was trying not to weep. He had blown up at her downstairs, using foul language. I suggested my older daughter invite her to come down and sit by her. We all shuffled to accommodate that.
Apparently, my ex softened, and they did stay to hear my son's name read. We had to walk to the other ceremony. What was supposed to be a five-minute walk turned into a forty-minute walk, then a forty-minute wait in line. We had been partially fortified on this journey by bananas and trail mix. When we finally got in, the lines for food--fruit and little sandwiches and cookies--was about two blocks long. I rudely snatched a half sandwich from a tray and tried to find a place to sit. I was concerned because I had heard that my youngest child had gone in a different direction with the stroller, and I didn't want him and my granddaughter to be lost. I was totally separated from my entire group by then. I stood there, looking at what seemed to be maybe twenty seats scattered throughout the pavilion and the hoards of people still in line behind me and wondered if we were about a thousand more people than the university had planned on.
After a few minutes of standing there, clueless, I received a text from my daughter-in-law's mother, directing me to where they were sitting outside of the covered part. I found them and sat down. I texted my husband, still in line, to let him know where to find me. Although the sound system was great, it became clear that I was not going to see anything. Just before they read my son's name, his dad shot past me and walked down close to the front. I decided to follow. So I was able to sort of see my son's face above the crowd, and I heard his name read. I thought, "I chose that name," and felt proud of it. That's the extent to which I can pat myself on the back for his great achievement, though.
By the end of this, my younger children were gone--I hadn't seen them at it at all, and I was utterly exhausted. My feet that need surgery hurt, bad. My head was pounding. My throat was on fire. My son offered that I could find a place to sit and someone would come back for me in a car after the rest of them had walked home, but that plan made me feel impatient. I didn't want to be separated from the group and have to wait, perhaps forty more minutes. I kept walking. My husband stayed with me, and my daughter and son were both solicitous. I tried to explain my decision. I would only feel relief when I could sink down onto a couch, and I had to keep moving steadily toward that couch.
My athletic granddaughter gave out about a half block from their house, and my son stayed with her to help her decide whether she was going to be able to walk or be carried or what. I had worn old, comfortable shoes, but even those weren't cutting it anymore. When I did reach the couch, I sank down on it, unsure when I would be able to move again. What an old lady! Someone lifted the foot rest, and someone gave me water. Someone else got me some tissues. After a few minutes, I got weird pains in three fingers of my left hand. Never had that before! And then my jaw and teeth started hurting like no one's business. I started to worry about a heart issue again, but my son's mother-in-law is a nurse, and she wasn't worried. She said that she gets that symptom with sinus infections all the time, and that I had really pushed myself is all, which was true. My daughter got me some excedrin--it wasn't time for more ibuprofen yet. After a few minutes, the pains did subside. I was able to get up and move around.
We left in the early evening for the airport. Just a few more things to knock down. Turning the car back in was easier than I had imagined. It was a very long walk to the gate, but I made it. We had plenty of time, so my daughter went off in search of food, and I texted her to please bring me something. Forty-nine texts later, she appeared with a small hamburger for me and soup for Mark. It was only then that I remembered that there was plenty of snack food in my carry-on. Still and all, I did not really eat all that much on the trip. Nothing to be ashamed of. And there was a lot of walking.
The flight was delayed by a few minutes. It seemed to take forever to get shuttled back to our car. But, by midnight were were home and unpacking and getting ready for bed. It was all over with, and, though being sick made what I knew would be a stressful trip more stressful, it was still worth it.
I texted my still-traveling kids and didn't receive anything back for about an hour. I started to worry--had they met with a misfortune already? Finally, I got word that they were still 300 miles away. That should not have been right. Most of an hour later, I heard that they were "only" 335 miles away. Were they going backward? They wouldn't get them home until about five a.m.! I inquired why and was told, "We stopped for dinner." Still, that doesn't explain so many hours. My ex, the "adult" in this situation, did not ever contact me to say they would be later.
Leaving the kitchen light on for my kids, I went to bed worried and planning to call some doctors first thing in the morning.
I don't know how long it was, but it seemed like hours that I lay in the nice hotel bed, fully covered and warm, but shivering violently with the chills of a fever. Every now and then, I would force myself to stop. I'd turn over or change position in some way and will my limbs to be still. But I could only hold that for a few seconds before the violent trembling would resume.
Our alarm was set for six, but I woke up a few minutes before that and started my morning routine. The hotel breakfast also started at six, and we had to all three get ready, get packed up to check out of the hotel completely, and get fed in time to get to my son's apartment well before eight.
I had wanted to wear a new pink shirt dress I had bought, but when I'd tried it on at home, I still couldn't get the buttons fastened. I was relieved, however, to see that it was a large instead of an extra-large, as I had thought. We had been cautioned to wear light material, anyway, and the material on that dress was a bit thick. I will look cute in it someday. Instead, I had brought a skirt that had been my mother's--to bring her to her nineteenth grandchild's graduation--and a simple white-tee-shirt-only-nicer type shirt. I didn't look great in this outfit--I'm still too lumpy and thick through the middle, but it was all I could do. And, for part of the day, at least, I could hide behind the new Stanford jacket I had bought--also in a large, which, fortunately, did go down over my body. I had a few compliments that it looked good on me.
I took two things of folded eggs at the breakfast, two slices of small round ham about the size of a tennis ball, and something I almost never have--orange juice. I figured I could use the vitamin C. Yesterday on the plane, I had tomato juice for my drink. I thought it would be good to get my stomach full, as I didn't know how much else I would get to eat today, but I found I could not finish my second folded egg. I was also antsy to get going. Those who arrived early enough could get a ride to the stadium. I was not feeling well enough to walk.
We were lucky enough to get a ride, but we still had to walk a couple of blocks from where we were dropped off and climb about a hundred stairs to the top of the stadium. I was cold at first, although I was wearing my new, expensive Stanford jacket I had bought at the bookstore yesterday when we also bought Mark's hat. But when the sun came out, it really came out. I took off the jacket and put on sun screen.
Because we were at the stadium early, we were in charge of saving enough seats for my son's wife, daughters, dad, and in-laws. I started to worry about my other children, too. I figured their dad would arrive late, and I didn't care if he (finally) had some natural consequences for his poor planning, but I wondered what my youngest children would experience. My daughter told me, about a half hour before the event was to start, that her sister had just posted a Snapchat that showed her location to still be in the town of their hotel. On the other side of me were some empty seats, too. I suggested she text them that we would save them seats. She also mentioned, a few minutes later, that her sister had bought a gift that might not be allowed past security, with their "clear bag" policy, and that they were planning to leave right after the first ceremony for the entire university and not stay for the convocation, where my son would be hooded. I thought about it for a few minutes, then invited my daughter to text them that, if they wanted to stay for that, it would be all right with me if he brought them back to me a little later. My son's college was holding its convocation right after the first ceremony, and my son was the first candidate on the list, so I figured this would add about an hour to their arrival time.
When they arrived, they appeared to the right of me, instead of to the left of us, as we had anticipated. I moved down four rows and welcomed my young sons to sit next to me. Their dad sat next to them, leaving my younger daughter on the very end. He turned to me with emphasis to let me know he was going to speak to me. I looked at him.
"My being here is only as a favor to you," he said, with energy. "You do not get to make demands on what I do afterward. I have my schedule that I have to keep and have to leave afterward."
Once again, totally misunderstood. "That's fine. You have to make your decisions. I just wanted you to know that you could stay if you wanted to, that it would be all right with me."
He continued to insist that it had been presented to him as a demand, and I had to again deny that. My younger daughter was trying not to weep. He had blown up at her downstairs, using foul language. I suggested my older daughter invite her to come down and sit by her. We all shuffled to accommodate that.
Apparently, my ex softened, and they did stay to hear my son's name read. We had to walk to the other ceremony. What was supposed to be a five-minute walk turned into a forty-minute walk, then a forty-minute wait in line. We had been partially fortified on this journey by bananas and trail mix. When we finally got in, the lines for food--fruit and little sandwiches and cookies--was about two blocks long. I rudely snatched a half sandwich from a tray and tried to find a place to sit. I was concerned because I had heard that my youngest child had gone in a different direction with the stroller, and I didn't want him and my granddaughter to be lost. I was totally separated from my entire group by then. I stood there, looking at what seemed to be maybe twenty seats scattered throughout the pavilion and the hoards of people still in line behind me and wondered if we were about a thousand more people than the university had planned on.
After a few minutes of standing there, clueless, I received a text from my daughter-in-law's mother, directing me to where they were sitting outside of the covered part. I found them and sat down. I texted my husband, still in line, to let him know where to find me. Although the sound system was great, it became clear that I was not going to see anything. Just before they read my son's name, his dad shot past me and walked down close to the front. I decided to follow. So I was able to sort of see my son's face above the crowd, and I heard his name read. I thought, "I chose that name," and felt proud of it. That's the extent to which I can pat myself on the back for his great achievement, though.
By the end of this, my younger children were gone--I hadn't seen them at it at all, and I was utterly exhausted. My feet that need surgery hurt, bad. My head was pounding. My throat was on fire. My son offered that I could find a place to sit and someone would come back for me in a car after the rest of them had walked home, but that plan made me feel impatient. I didn't want to be separated from the group and have to wait, perhaps forty more minutes. I kept walking. My husband stayed with me, and my daughter and son were both solicitous. I tried to explain my decision. I would only feel relief when I could sink down onto a couch, and I had to keep moving steadily toward that couch.
My athletic granddaughter gave out about a half block from their house, and my son stayed with her to help her decide whether she was going to be able to walk or be carried or what. I had worn old, comfortable shoes, but even those weren't cutting it anymore. When I did reach the couch, I sank down on it, unsure when I would be able to move again. What an old lady! Someone lifted the foot rest, and someone gave me water. Someone else got me some tissues. After a few minutes, I got weird pains in three fingers of my left hand. Never had that before! And then my jaw and teeth started hurting like no one's business. I started to worry about a heart issue again, but my son's mother-in-law is a nurse, and she wasn't worried. She said that she gets that symptom with sinus infections all the time, and that I had really pushed myself is all, which was true. My daughter got me some excedrin--it wasn't time for more ibuprofen yet. After a few minutes, the pains did subside. I was able to get up and move around.
We left in the early evening for the airport. Just a few more things to knock down. Turning the car back in was easier than I had imagined. It was a very long walk to the gate, but I made it. We had plenty of time, so my daughter went off in search of food, and I texted her to please bring me something. Forty-nine texts later, she appeared with a small hamburger for me and soup for Mark. It was only then that I remembered that there was plenty of snack food in my carry-on. Still and all, I did not really eat all that much on the trip. Nothing to be ashamed of. And there was a lot of walking.
The flight was delayed by a few minutes. It seemed to take forever to get shuttled back to our car. But, by midnight were were home and unpacking and getting ready for bed. It was all over with, and, though being sick made what I knew would be a stressful trip more stressful, it was still worth it.
I texted my still-traveling kids and didn't receive anything back for about an hour. I started to worry--had they met with a misfortune already? Finally, I got word that they were still 300 miles away. That should not have been right. Most of an hour later, I heard that they were "only" 335 miles away. Were they going backward? They wouldn't get them home until about five a.m.! I inquired why and was told, "We stopped for dinner." Still, that doesn't explain so many hours. My ex, the "adult" in this situation, did not ever contact me to say they would be later.
Leaving the kitchen light on for my kids, I went to bed worried and planning to call some doctors first thing in the morning.
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