(that’s a fighter jet reference for those of you who aren’t up on your fighter jet slang).
Yesterday was pretty much the worst day ever! Let me tell you about it, okay (I mean, I know it wasn’t the worst day ever, but it wasn’t good).
I called the mail order pharmacy where my neurologist had faxed my prescription for the next six months to confirm that it would be delivered overnight. Um… they never faxed it. So, NO medicine for the next six months! That’s kind of a problem. So I called the doctor’s office and told them and they called back and said, “Um, we kind of don’t even see the paperwork here; we don’t know what happened. We’ll find a way to take care of it.” So they did. They called back and said they would get me samples enough for two months and I could get my normal prescription filled for the next month (and then I could go forward with the mail order prescription for the following three months). GREAT! What a great office to fix their mistake so quickly. So we get to the pharmacy to refill my prescription, and THEY say, “We can’t refill this before the 10th – it’s too soon according to your insurance you have enough pills to last until then.” GRRR… Then he asked, “I mean, are you going on a long drive or something?” We said, “Well yeah, Iraq?!” He said, “I’ll make a phone and see what I can do, but I won’t know until tommorrow.”
But here’s what made me upset (read: actually cry) in the midst of all of this. I miss driving! We have all of these errands to run to get ready to go, (like going to the pharmacy, to the doctor’s office to pick up my meds, now back to the pharmacy again today because they messed it up), and I can’t do any of that myself. I HAVE to have someone else do it for me. I can’t just spontaneously do it – I can’t decide my day for myself. I have to interrupt someone else’s day ALL THE TIME. I’m on someone else’s schedule ALL THE TIME. And even as we’re doing those errands, I can’t really take my time (I mean, I can to an extent, but I can’t be totally pokey) because I’m ALWAYS with someone else (and some would say, well someone could take you somewhere and drop you off, but that’s really the same thing – I’m still on their time). It’s just no good. Any I don’t like it. (That’s my third grade pouty voice in case you can’t tell, which is about what I was doing last night in the car as I was crying about not driving).
But then, that third grade pouty voice turned into a wail later in the evening when…
I lost my engagement ring. You know, the one God told Robert to wait for because He was telling Danielle to give it to Robert to give to me in London? Yeah. That one.
(sob. sob. sob.) Yeah. I could not pull up from that one. Much earlier in the evening I had even commented to Robert that it was becoming so loose I’d almost lost it that day as it slipped almost totally off my finger before I caught it. Then, as I was looking at a sweater at a department store, I noticed my finger and… I went running to Robert and said (sheepishly), “I lost my …(crying) ring (crying)….” He said that we would find it. I said that I didn’t want to lose my ring because God gave it us. He said that if God gave it us then it would be okay if God took it away and that we’d still be married even if we lost it.
So we looked in the store and the parking lot. And some nice ladies looked with me because they saw me crying and they said, “My mom lost her ring in the garbage disposal and didn’t think she’d ever get it again. We’ll pray for you to get it back.” And we called the store where we’d been before (because I’d tried on clothes there and it was a pretty good shot that I would have lost it there). They said they’d look and call if they found it but they never called. And I cried some more because I wouldn’t get to tell people about how God gave us this ring. And we went back to Chipotle where we ate dinner and I fed Nila because maybe it slipped off there when I was getting all undone.
And it had.
It was lying on the floor all lonely and brilliant right under the chair where I sat.
So I stopped crying for a few minutes. Until we were on the way home and I did again when I told Robert that I didn’t want to lose my ring and that I couldn’t wear it anymore because it didn’t fit and I’d have to put it away. But now, it’s safe and sound in its pretty ivory box and I’ve pulled up!