Forget Everything You Know.

Wednesday was moving day. My sis had come in from Philadelphia on Saturday and between her, some friends and my housekeepers - whom I'd no longer been able to engage for the last several months - we got everything packed, locked and ready to load. Or so I thought.

When I opened my eyes on Wednesday, I winced at the sharp pain I felt at the back of my throat. A tight cough followed. By the time I'd dropped sis off at LAX, I realized I had bronchitis. But after my L.A. doc called in some antibiotics I figured I was set. Or so I thought.

After the movers left, I was faced with the dust of 8 years, and, since the new owners were doing their final walk-through only hours later, I set about dusting, vacuuming and scrubbing every surface, floor, ceiling and wall. The sadness I felt about leaving the house came on new from every room, but the act of cleaning was therapeutic. Or so I thought.

Thursday I loaded up the car with as much stuff as it would hold - plus Biggie in his cat carrier (thank you Dr. Bill Carlsen for giving him that sedative - he slept the whole way) and Gracie, who spent the first half of the ride on my lap. I noticed my breathing getting tighter and tighter as I drove, but I comforted myself with the thought of getting to my daughter's apartment and the lovely bed I'd bought her. Ah, I thought, just get me to San Francisco, Lord. Then I'll collapse.

That was putting it lightly.

In the middle of the night, I awoke gasping for breath. Air seemed to be in short supply and I tried not to panic. All that dust, I remembered. I breathed all that dust. In combo with bronchitis, I'd touched off a full-on asthma attack.

So I spent my first full day (Friday the Thirteenth, no less) in the ER at UCSF. They wanted to admit and INTUBATE me. I thought of my friend Paul, years ago, who'd been intubated - and how he'd freaked the fuck out and tore the tube out of his lungs, throat, mouth. And ended up dead. No, no, no. That wasn't for me. Instead, they gave me continuous nebulizer treatments for about 10 hours and then reluctantly sent me home with the caveat that if I started struggling, I would come back. I promised I would, but I was resolute: I would not struggle any longer. I've struggled enough, thank you. Now was time for surrender.

I have spent the past two days sitting on my daughter's bed, reading, watching telly and talking briefly on the phone with friends. Pretty much motionless. Except for when I cough my lungs up. Or what feels like parts of them. This is new behavior. Like most women I know, I spend my days as a body in motion. To be still is a foreign concept, but I am surrendered to it. And little by little, I'm getting better.

I have this to say though: if UCSF's ER staff is any indication of SF as a whole, I'm so happy I moved here. They were professional, friendly (all doctors and nurses identified themselves by their first names) and caring. The doc who treated me for most of the day/night actually called me at Cory's yesterday to check on me. Hey, what hospital can you say does something like THAT?

My feelings about the bay area had been tentative and ambivalent. I had been under the impression that SF people were, well, snooty. That it would take effort on my part to fit in. That, having known my way around the world and its ways (of L.A.) for 28 years, I might be baffled by this brave new world up north. But all it takes to get a level check on compassion anywhere is to find yourself sick as a dog and unable to "man up." I had been measuring my expectations with the same ruler that applied to L.A. - thinking that my experiences here would be as cold as those in L.A.  So I'd planned to play my cards close to the vest. Expect the worst and hope for the best. Because to my mind, SF was a diamond: polished, hard, inaccessible and challenging.

Or so I thought.

Comments

[Florinda]

Glad to know you got the house sold, but stunned to find out here that you up and moved to San Francisco! Is it long term?

I'm sorry we didn't get the chance to meet up in person before you left, but hopefully you'll be back to visit - and please keep blogging here so I know what you're up to! Best of luck and take care, Lucia.

[Jean]

Here's to expectations unmet. And amen for that.

Get well soon. And then let me know how I can help as you begin navigating your new territory.

XOXO.