still alive

Yes, I'm still here.

It's a long story so I'll sum up. Feb 14 me and Scott went to Little Sahara and ran the dunes in his 4x4 Jeep. His other friends that we were with had 4-wheelers. After chasing around for a while Scott's roommate, Ken got tired so Scott got on his quad. I didn't think much of it, but when I saw Ken show Scott how to shift gears I got a sick feeling in my stomach. I really wanted to tell him to get his ass off the quad and back in the jeep. But his friends we were with are all military and I didn't want to make a scene. Off he goes with a few other people. I stayed behind with someones girlfriend, Ken and someone else.

We talked and watched them go up and down the dunes. Then they were gone. At first I thought they were talking with some other guys that had a sand dune buggy. A guy came back and said "Hey, ya'll, I think Scott broke his wrist." My knees damn near went out from under me. So with Ken driving the jeep (I don't know standard transmission) We followed the guy down to the bottom of a dune where Scott was laying on his side, arm stretched out with a bone sticking out of the top of his wrist at a grotesque angle. The skin wasn't punctured, but it looked bad anyway. He had a cut above his eye and across the top of his nose and blood was dripping of the end of his nose and clotting in the sand.We put Scott in the jeep, I crawled into the back and Ken drove us back to where the others had camp.

The nearest hospital was Alva, 20-25 miles away. By this time Scott was looking very pale and had his eyes squeezed shut because the blood and sand was irritating his eyes. (He was wearing goggles, helmet and gloves) So I get into Scott's truck and we head to Alva. In Waynoka I had to make a turn and go through the middle of town a few blocks to get to the highway. I stopped at a stop sign and as I was making the turn Scott says he has to puke. Thankfully there were no cars parked infront of this business so I pulled parallel to the curb and he opened the door and yaked. After he closed the door I sat there for a few moments to let his stomach either settle or go for round two. When he nodded that he was ok I noticed that I had pulled infront of a cafe. Thank goodness it was closed because that would have been bad. A real life Barf-O-Rama like in the movie Stand By Me.

In Alva he gets stitched up, 4 across his broke nose and 3 in the eyelid just above the lashes. He gets lortab and his broke wrist splinted. They couldn't set a break that bad and called the bone and joint er in OKC to let them know we were on our way. They send us on our way a few hours later with his x-rays and more lortab. I also grabbed a puke bucket which Scott made offerings to regularly. The blood from his nose was draining to his stomach and after so much, his stomach would send it back. It's freaky watching someone puke blood. I was worried that he had internal injuries.

We go back to the little motel we were staying at. (When we checked in the night before it was close to midnight, the woman who runs it also lives there and was asleep. The ringer woke her and she opened the door and said she had put the key to our room under the mat. Just check in in the morning she said. God bless the Small Towns). The woman was running out. So we hung out in the room for about 45 minutes waiting for her to get back. After checking out we went back to Little Sahara. We trailered the jeep up there and I was not about to drive the truck with a loaded trailer behind it. One of the other guys offered to trailer it back home for us.

It was dark by the time we got to the other ER. They put him under consious sedation and set the bone and put it in a cast. After setting it they took him across the hall to x-ray it. The nurse stopped in front of the waiting area and I waved and asked where they were going. The nurse says x-ray and starts to round the corner. Scott rolls over enough to call out over his shoulder, 'next stop, autopsy' He doesn't remember saying it, but thinks it was damn funny. I thought my joke about rectal themometers was funny in Alva but he shot me daggers from under his closed eyes.

We get home and I told him as I ran a bath, 'babe, if you wanted a sponge bath for Valentine's, all you had to do was ask.'

About two weeks later he had surgery. I took the day off so I could take him there and bring him back. (later I learned from dad that my brother who smashed this thumb in a metal press was having a second surgery on his thumb at the same time Scott was having a plate put into his wrist).

To keep the cast dry he'd put a trash bag over it and secure it with a rubber band. For 4 weeks whenever I took a shower over there he'd get in with me, invited or not. He said it was the only time he could get his right arm-pit washed, get a good hair-washing and get his back dried.

The cast came off after 2 weeks and he wore a removable splint for a few weeks. He's been in physical therapy for almost 3 weeks.

So while helping him out around the house with stuff I was trying to get my finances sorted out (yes, again) and get started on getting a home loan. I really can't save much on my regular paycheck, so I've been working overtime and the overtime money goes into savings.

The last two Saturdays I've been out with a realtor looking at houses. Some are nice, some are shit but I haven't found 'the one' if such a house exhists. We did look at one in a cute cozy quiet area. It did need some new cabinets in the kitchen and new carpet and paint, but other than that I could see myself living there. The washer and dryer were in the garage, which I don't mind. I did mind that the only way to the garage was out the back door, around the little stoop and through another door. I told the realtor, S, that I've been walking a block 1 way in all weather to get my clothes to the laundry room at the apt complex for 4.5 years. I didn't want to go outside to get the laundry at my own house. The wall that the kitchen shared with the garage was long enough for a door. The back yard was nice, with a mature tree and a storage shed.

The houses I looked at near downtown in the historal district were cute. Some were in crappy neighborhoods and/or needed more work than I was willing to put into it. The two that I really liked only had 1 bathroom. I told S that I needed 2 bathrooms and that was non-negotiable.

And that brings us up to today. The mortgage process gives me a headache. The stress of looking for a home and whether or not I'll find one before mid May has my emotions going up and down and every which way. The stress is almost more than my zoloft can handle.

oh, and I cut 12-14" off my hair, bringing it up to the bottom of my belt loops on my favorite pair of jeans.

I've missed all ya'll.