I had three hopes this week, each with its own degree of improbability. There's something almost comforting about improbable hopes: it's hard to be too upset when they do not come to fruition--"dashed" seems a little strong, if you know what I mean. And when you're juggling three of them, well, you just think to yourself, "I'll be lucky to get one. One would be nice."
Well, I got my one. The biggest one.
My Nam made it. Perhaps her seventy-four pounds are composed of rubber; she was pulled and twanged ferociously, her heartbeat soaring and plummeting, her respiration at sixty and then at eight, but she didn't snap. She was awake, if not alert, when we arrived, bleary-eyed, on Monday morning. I held her bony, bruised hand and she smiled at me. By Wednesday, she could even eat a little something. I left her yesterday afternoon, sitting up in her regular hospital bed--having been moved out of ICU--and telling me, in her delicate voice, how excited she was about...
Wish number two.
My new job. Got the call yesterday morning. I had nearly written it off, after five days of waiting, but it's mine. I caved at the last minute and reduced my intended bid by ten bucks an hour, which was either foolish (they would have paid more) or fortunate (there were four of us in contention; I did not want to lose out merely on price). The money's still acceptable. I start Monday. We renegotiate in six months.
As for wish number three, well, that was a crackpipe dream and I knew it. This odd, hormonally-fucked-up cycle--nine days of bleeding to start, late ovulation--was probably the last one I should have had hope for. But, in my most optimistic moments, I really did. The PMS--the bloating, breast tenderness and Vesuvial zit--which always made an appearance for two days about a week before the inevitable, never materialized. And I started to imagine that I would be one of those infuriatingly lucky "I went through a failed IVF cycle and then, when I relaxed the next month, I got pregnant! With boy/girl twins!" women. Well, no. Instead, my period showed up, four days early and in a gush of watery brown, while I was haggling with the Honda mechanic and wearing white. Fortunately, the white was my underwear, which were well masked by a dark denim skirt. The dealerships, they provide free doughnuts, free coffee, free internet access--but they do not provide free tampons. I had to get change for my twenty from Parts.
Bring on the BCP's, then bring on the injectibles, then bring on July. At least I'll have my new job to distract me, and my Nam to ask me all about it.
Thank you to all who wrote and kept us in your thoughts these last few days. I read some of your comments at a busy L.A. internet cafe and got so teary that the kindhearted busboy asked me, in his very halting English, if I needed some water. Having friends in the computer is a beautiful, beautiful gift.