Thursday, May 27, 2010

Murphy's Law

There is something to be said about Murphy’s Law: “Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.”
To begin this story, I will need to rewind to Thursday morning.

The morning started off well enough. I arrived to work on time, unscathed despite the traffic that does not belong in Saskatchewan. (Far busier than it should be!) I got my coffee, as well as one for the receptionist at work. It had become a daily routine, one that I quite enjoyed. The smile is worth it.
It was a fun morning. I was working on putting together packages for children at a local school that the company I work for sponsors. I was having a lot of fun with it, making planes etc., and generally being silly. Then things started to get busy.

At about 11 that morning, my supervisor’s supervisor informed me that the company I work for would be holding a press conference the following morning, and that as my supervisor was out of town, I would be responsible for … [insert list]. It was fine, it really was. Sure, everyone was running around like chickens with their heads cut off, trying to get ready for this press conference but not telling anyone else anything. But that is a typical office behind the scenes, no?

Anyway, that wasn’t bad. Except, at 11:30, my dad texted me to tell me that my Pepere (grandpa), who had been in the hospital for the past 20 days, had gotten worse. They didn’t know whether he would make it until the following day.

However, because I was busy running around like a chicken with its head cut off (very stylishly too I might add), I didn’t recieve the text until about 12:15 – I hadn’t looked at my phone since 11.
As soon as I recieved the text, I messaged my dad back to ask how bad it was, and to ask whether I would be okay coming home the following day, as originally planned still. See, this press conference was happening tomorrow morning, and I needed to be here. It would be an amazing learning experience.

Well, I got a learning experience. My brother texted me shortly after saying that Pepere was going downhill fast, and that I had better get home. That broke me down. I read his message, and then read it again. Then I hurried to the bathroom, because there were tears streaming down my face that I didn’t want my co-workers to see.

I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t leave… could I? Would it wreck my relationships with my co-workers and my job?

One of my co-workers heard me in the bathroom, and asked if I was okay when I came out. That broke my delicate self-control. My co-worker, bless her, told me that she would take over anything I had left that needed to be done that day and the following (the rest of the week), and that I needed to be with my family. Wise words.

By the time I had relayed all my information to her and notified the appropriate people, it was 12:50. I raced home, crying the whole way, and threw a bunch of clothes in a bag. I really took no notice to what I put in there – I didn’t know what I would need. I remembered my socks, my underwear. I brought my toothbrush. I also packed a lot of black clothes. I wasn’t in the right mindset to pick out an outfit in case there would be a funeral, but I knew that I would probably need to be once I got home. I didn’t know what jewellery I would want, so I packed the entire jewellery box. I didn’t remember a jacket – I grabbed a sweater only on my way out the door as an afterthought.

I needed to stop for gas on my way out of the city – my car had only half a tank, and it would be a windy drive. I managed to smile for the gas attendant, and pretend I was just going on a business trip. I was still dressed in my work clothes, so that much was quite easy.

At about 2:30, it started raining quite hard. I pulled my car over to the side of the road because I couldn’t see anything. It then started hailing, noisy, pea-sized hail. I sighed, and waited to sit it out. It was then that I got the call. Pepere had died. My dad made the call to me. I don’t know why I answered the way I did. When I saw his number I answered the phone cheerfully, not thinking about why he might be calling. He told me that Pepere had died. I said okay, like it was just another business call. I told him it was raining and hailing and I could hardly hear him. He asked me if he should phone my sister at school. I said that yes, he should. He sighed, and said that he had better go then. I said okay. That was all.

Granted, I was upset. It was like my body was a shell that was reacting of its own volition rather than portraying my actual thoughts. I spent the rest of the drive home crying and screaming.
When I got to town, I went straight to the hospital. I saw one boy I knew on the way there, one who had been in my brothers class. He was just sitting there on the corner, watching me. I looked at him, but didn’t smile, didn’t wave. I just kept going. When I got to the hospital, the hearse followed me into the parking lot. I was panicked by that. They couldn’t take him away before I got to him.

Most people had left the hospital room when I got there. My family was still in there though, waiting for me to get there. I am not going to go into any details about my visit with Pepere’s body, except that he didn’t look like himself. It was tough.

We went to Memere’s (Grandma’s) house, where we met up with the rest of the (extended) family. I learned soon after, that I was an honourary aunt. My boyfriend’s sister had had a little baby boy, shortly after Pepere died. His name is Matthew. Such a cutie.

Yet, there was problems with the birth. When they gave her the epidural, it required 3 needles because the guy ‘screwed up’. As a result, after giving birth she was in a lot of pain, and could not even move her head. She could not hold her own baby or nurse. Post-partum set in, as a result of feeling like a bad mother.
She went home with the baby, hoping for the best. A day later, she was still in a lot of pain, and the baby was peeing blood, so they both returned to the hospital. The doctor gave her a blood patch which eventually eased most of the pain, and informed her that the baby’s pee being tinted red was normal for a newborn, as they swallow a lot of blood during birth and it needs to work its way out of the system.

Okay, so that’s good.

So on Monday, I decide that I am going to watch the hockey game first. Seeing my team make it to the final round of the playoffs would really cheer me up. Nah. They lose.
Then, on the way back to the city from my hometown, I hit a deer. Seriously. A deer.

Ergh.

Murphy’s Law, I’m telling you.
The good things that came out of this: I have a healthy little nephew, and I will now not have to repaint my bumper as I will be getting a whole new one…

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