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.
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.
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.
CAN YOU EVEN IMAGINE?!
Truly, this year has been bad enough. No más.