Marty Sunshine was willing to rush me to the hospital Friday evening right after I uttered the words, "I don't think I'm going to Corona night."
I had reasons:
1. Baseball. I said what I said.
2. My hand hurts and I'm trying like crazy to type my last two chapters of my story before Wednesday's surgery. I'm on a mission.
3. Someone was bringing shrimp for dinner and it's kind of a problem to be in an enclosed space with shrimp. A big problem.
4. My inner introvert was cowering in the corner.
Instead, Marty suggested I reconsider. After all, I always have a good time. And I like these women. A lot. They are fun, funny and loving. He urged me to go, pointing out that a couple of hours away from home with people I like, playing Skipbo and Mexican Train is cheaper than my medical deducible at the hospital.
And besides, if I was sent to the hospital, I might not have my surgery Wednesday, what did I want more? My hand to stop hurting or to write a check for a lot of money and not be able to spend that same dollar amount at the garden center this weekend.
Anyway, I went.
And... I found out the Coronas planned a surprise birthday party for me--complete with cake and presents. I still tear up at this because I did not think they considered me one of them, but just Tessa's pal. When I expressed my overwhelm for their kindness, they laughed at me and told me it was crazy to think they wouldn't have celebrated me.
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| Oh my goodness! |
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