Further proof that 2015 is the worst

I took last Thursday off to attend a funeral.

It was the first funeral I attended since my sweet Dad’s in spite of this being, I think, the sixth friend or acquaintance to lose her dad just since June. I warned the women I traveled to Connecticut with:

I will be a mess. Don’t be alarmed.

And I was a mess. But a manageable mess. I don’t think anyone noticed.

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Attending the funeral was worth the tears. The friend (this one) has been dear to me for many years and was someone I leaned on across the miles when this year was at its hardest.

When it was over and I got back to the city, I went straight to an event with Adrienne and Hassan. It was a wonderful way to decompress. Until it wasn’t.

In short, the event ended and I went outside. Thanks to general, well-established clumsiness, three Manhattans and not enough food, I misjudged a step and fell flat on my face. My hands went up early enough to end up aching, but too late to protect my face.

I don’t know what came first – physical pain or embarrassment. But I’ve had both ever since.

On Friday, I found a doctor, an otolaryngologist, who could squeeze me in. He confirmed that my nose is broken and performed a closed reduction right then and there. I’ll get rechecked after this week’s trip to LA and Santa Barbara and hopefully not require surgery.

I escaped without a cast but the doctor told me “be careful” (ha!) and not to exercise (A-OK) or have sex (I laughed like a maniac because…).

CAN YOU EVEN IMAGINE?!

Truly, this year has been bad enough. No más.

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