Life's Grand Central Station

Have you ever noticed how Life, both the high and the low, seems to happen all at once? This has been one hell of a few days.

Tuesday
I went out with my boys Jordan, Marshall, and Steve, had some drinks, and a lot of fun. No drama, nothing out of the ordinary. It was pretty much our standard Every Tuesday Night Out.

Wednesday
Jordan had some things happen at work that, while he is not directly involved and still employed, left him scrambling to find a new job as quickly as possible. I wasn't feeling very well, but just assumed it was a result of staying out too late the night before, so I took a quick nap after work and met with Jordan for an early night of cheap beers and stress release.

Meanwhile, Marshall had his own relationship drama brewing, which none of us knew about until later.

Thursday
I woke up with a cold, but went to work anyway, assuming I could cope. By noon, I could tell I was running a low-grade fever, so I relocated myself to my couch with a blanket and ginger tea.

While I was curled up watching Netflix, Steve went in for a simple outpatient surgery. No one expected any complications, so I called him in the late afternoon, just to see how he was feeling and to let him know that I was contagious and couldn't visit for a couple of days. That quickly changed.

Steve answered the phone in a panic, bleeding profusely, so I immediately sprung into action; giving him the flu was no longer any concern. While I battled traffic to Steve's house, I had the thought that maybe Typhoid Mary shouldn't be taking care of Bloody Mary, so I called Jordan -- who astutely pointed out that he's just Mary -- and asked if he could be available for backup if I needed it later on. His response: "I'm on my way."

Between us, Jordan and I worked out our plan with the doctor, took Steve down to the hospital to get the bleeding under control, got all of Steve's prescriptions, settled him in for bed with everything he'd need, and cleaned up his bathroom, which looked like a murder scene. I got home a little after 10, and finally had the chance to sit down and decompress. As soon as the caretaker mindset left me and the adrenaline drained from my body, I once again noticed how sick I really felt. After confirming that Steve had someone with him for the night, I relaxed, took some cold medicine, and went to bed.

But still, I didn't sleep well.

Friday
Friday morning, I felt no better... perhaps worse... so I called in sick to work and went about trying to take care of myself. In the early afternoon, Jordan alerted me that Steve had ended up in the Emergency Room in the wee hours, but didn't have any further details. Steve finally texted back (possibly by proxy) that he was sleeping, but he'd send an update later.

Realizing that I couldn't do anything but wait for Steve's message, I decided to take a shower and get on with my day, having only a brief meltdown in the process. Since that day happened to be Marshall's birthday, I took some decongestant, bundled up, and headed out with him and Jordan for dinner and the party. While the three of us enjoyed our pho, Steve sent out an update via e-mail, which I read aloud at the table. His complications were ongoing, and it turned out that the simple procedure was actually very risky in his case; had the doctors known, he never would have gotten the surgery in the first place.

We all thanked whatever form of luck or deity we could come up with that Steve was stable, and being well taken care of by doctors and friends. Then we put our focus back on the birthday celebration and headed down to meet all of Marshall's friends at the Lobby.

I can't say enough to sum up the revelry of the night; everyone had a great time, old and new friends alike. We drank more than our fair share at 2 bars, the second of which we left only because they were closing, and had street hot dogs on the way home -- my camera documenting the festivities every step of the way. I ended the night in a group hug with Marshall and Jordan outside my place, and went to bed somewhere in the vicinity of 3am.

Saturday
Today, things finally seem to be slowing down, getting back to usual. I slept in, woke up with no hangover, but my cold still in full force, and decided to spend the day in my pajamas. I watched the Seahawks beat the defending Superbowl champs in the NFC wild card playoff game, against all odds (WOO-HOO!), then turned to see Montreal battle the Bruins on Hockey Night in Canada.

Of course, Steve still isn't out of the woods, and he's been on my mind all day. I continue to be on edge emotionally, and in pretty poor shape physically. It's not exactly a typical Saturday, but it's getting there.

At least that's something.