Two Worlds Collide

Part 2...to follow "Mystery Illness"

The short, sleepless night blended into the next day. The nurse’s aide who was on duty saw that I was on a “heart healthy” diet and promised she’d slip me some salt from time to time. What more could I ask for?

The day dragged by: more tests, more negative results. I made up the story that the doc treating me was noting in my file that I belonged on a psych ward and should be treated for hypochondria. He was patient and thorough but just as baffled as I was.

Then it started. Marcus called to say that he wanted to come to visit me when he got off work. I told him that I simply must watch the finale of Dancing with the Stars, so a visit wouldn’t be possible.

He insisted. “I just want to see you for a few minutes and look into your eyes again.” How could I say “No” to that?

Dave had been calling off and on all day, seemingly concerned that he had abandoned me at the hospital. During the last call, he told me, “You know, the hospital is right on my way home from work. I think I’ll stop by for a quick visit.” Gulp.

Now dating two guys at the same time in the early stages is one thing. However, having them both in the same hospital room at the same time is quite another.

“Oh Dave, you are just too kind, but that’s probably not a good idea. I may have other friends stopping by and I really want to watch Dancing with the Stars and…”

He interrupted, “I won’t stay long. I just want to stop by to see you and hold your hand a few minutes.”

Oh my gosh! This was going to happen. My two short-term suitors were going to show up in my hospital room at the same time. I couldn’t get the image of Marcus gazing into my eyes while Dave held my hand out of my mind. I rationalized that if there was any blood shed, at least we were already in the hospital.

I got up the nerve to look in the mirror. Whoa, scary. I lay back down quickly. I tried to remember the last time I’d brushed my teeth or combed my hair, not exactly top priorities in hospital ERs. So many tubes and leads were attached to me that I had not even seriously considered taking a bath. Nope… I predicted the guys wouldn’t be staying long at all.

Marcus arrived first… with flowers in hand. (big sigh) Any other time I would have seen this as the lovely gesture that it was. Right now all I could think about was how I could produce a make-shift “vase” and get the flowers into water without flashing my backside that showed through the huge slit up the back of my lovely hospital gown. And where could I place the bouquet so that Dave wouldn’t notice it… (I’m not sure why I worried about him noticing the flowers when noticing Marcus was clearly the larger concern.)




I grabbed my water pitcher, put it in the sink and stuck the flowers in it without even removing the green paper…all this with one hand, while the other held my gaping gown together.

I nestled back into my bed and attempted to untangle all my tubes and leads. Marcus took my face in his hands to gaze into my eyes.

The door opened. “Hey Dave. Have you met Marcus?”




They shook hands …then Marcus sat in a chair on the right side of my bed while Dave took the one on the left side. The thought ran through my head, “Ok, this is the perfect amount of awkwardness.”

Then the door opened again.

The night nurse appeared. Good, maybe she could save me from this uncomfortable situation and demand that they leave. It didn’t happen.

Instead she positioned herself at the foot of my bed and wanted to discuss…(are you ready for this?)… my bowel movements. Just when I thought things couldn’t get worse. If I were seriously trying to make up questions about bowel movements, I could never have come up with as many as she threw at me. After what seemed like an eternity, she finally left.

A long pause followed. I pretended to watch TV. Dave eventually stood and said, "Well, I'd better be going now. Oh, who gave you the flowers?"


Ava's website (www.edatinginsight.com)

Mystery Illness

Ok, it wasn't the flu. The doctor displayed the proof to me on her computer. She showed me x-rays and the results of the blood tests. Even with my vast experience watching Grey's Anatomy, the x-rays didn't make sense. Her translation: you don't have the flu, or a sinus infection, or anything else that's clearly discernible. She gave me the obligatory antibiotics and sent me on my way. I took her at her word and proceeded with life.

I worked. I rested. I checked my online dating email. I rested. Life still wasn't back to normal, but when I watched Nightline display horrendous victims of swine flu gasping for breath, I reminded myself that my substandard health could be much worse.

I didn't have a fever so I agreed to a few dates with men I met through the latest Internet dating site I had joined. I'll call the first guy Dave. Dave and I had the mandatory coffee date that progressed to dinner at a nice restaurant.




Attention neophytes: That's often how this works. If we "click" over coffee, then the date continues. If not, we are free to go our separate ways having only lost about 15 minutes of our time, and still enjoyed a nice cup of tea or java. It's a pretty good system...unless there is some disagreement about whether or not we click. Fortunately, Dave and I agreed that we did.

Flash forward to the restaurant. We sipped a full-bodied, red wine and discussed our backgrounds, our hopes, our dreams. I savored every bite of my Asian salad with marinated chicken and grilled shrimp. The mandarin orange slices added the perfect tartness to balance the rich blackberry smoothness of the wine….That night we captured the right mix of a cheekiness, sincerity, and intrigue. Dave and I agreed that we’d like to see each other again. A soft, yet sensual kiss on the cheek sealed the deal.

I still wasn't bringing my "A" game to the table. I frequently felt like I'd just run a marathon when I'd only climbed one short flight of stairs to my apartment. This was not my norm. I prided myself on my twice weekly dancing...both lessons and for fun. I hated this fatigue that restrained me now. I rested a lot. I missed a few days at work. But lacking any respectable symptoms, I pressed on when I could. ("Sorry, I can't possibly work today. I'm tired." What kind of symptom is that?)

Enter date number two. Marcus, who was a member of the same dating site, also belonged to a social group for singles that I attended. The group had a dance Friday night. As the dance coordinator, I arrived early to save tables. The band demanded high energy. A couple of beers and Marcus convinced me that I could keep up. I danced with others in the group, but it was looking into Marcus's eyes during the few slow dances that fixated me. His sense of rhythm inspired a gentle lead that made following a pleasure. We agreed that we'd like to get to know each other better.



Then I crashed. The next two days were divided between the sofa and my bed. I gave thanks for Campbell's microwavable soups. Marcus and Dave called daily to check on me. We spent time getting to know each other over the phone. I had to take notes since my brain was more than a little scrambled due to this mystery illness. A section of my spiral notebook was devoted to Dave and another section to Marcus.

By the third day, I had to call a girlfriend to go to the grocery store for me. Living alone can be hell in the best of times. This was not the best of times. She stayed and helped me out for several hours. I felt worse, but when I started having chest pains, I paid attention. It had been two years since I'd had a heart attack that culminated with a stent. (Yes, I'm much too young for that kind of nonsense.)

When I told Dave what was happening, he insisted that he drive me to the nearest ER. I didn't put up much of a fight. I knew what lay ahead, but I'm not sure he did. There were literally hours of lying around, testing, retesting, waiting ... and waiting some more.(Did I mention stabbing and re-stabbing to get a vein that would spew some blood?) After two grueling hours, I convinced Dave to go home and go to bed....he was literally falling asleep sitting up in the chair at my bedside.

Since I had a "history," they admitted me for more testing. Dave and I had arrived at the ER door at 10:30 PM. At 3:00 am, I was finally in a room....and in a tremendous amount of pain. The intake nurse on the floor asked me a battery of questions.

When he asked, "Do you have anxiety?" I couldn't hold back.

"Hell yes, I have anxiety. Wouldn't you have anxiety if you were poked with needles and left strapped to a hard bed for 4 and a half hours?"

He didn't dawdle on the remaining questions. (To be continued)

(Ava's website www.edatinginsight.com)

Online Dating and the Flu

It's been a week now. I ache. My eyelids hurt when I blink. I just finished researching who makes AirBorn as I make plans to sue.

The TV is my new best friend. Never a big fan before, now I lie mesmerized watching any and every segment of drivel that comes on... not because it has such profound entertainment value but because I'm so freaking bored...and it's the one thing that takes practically zero energy.

As a diversion, I wobble over to check my online dating messages. Interesting. I have two emails from doctors, both local. (I note how they work "doc" or "doctor" into their user names. Probably no accident.) Ok, maybe the Universe is smiling down on me. I'm sick. I get doctors.

The first email says,

"You have piqued my interest with a fascination hitherto reserved for a catalogue of honeymoon accessories.... I do not enjoy typing. I never mastered the art of typing, because I was convinced that I was entitled to a secretary who would take my dictation. How could I possibly imagine that one day typing would be paramount to finding the woman of my dreams. So call me; doctor's orders: (leaves phone number)"

Not having the energy to sit too long at the keyboard, I glance briefly over his profile, determine that it is quite possibly a portion of his dissertation, and wobble back to the couch grabbing my cell phone on the way.

I don't always make phone contact this early on but dire circumstances call for dire measures. I introduce myself. He's thrilled to hear from me and begins to make plans for us to meet and spend the entire day together.

"Uh... that's sounds lovely, but ..well.. I'm sick. The flu, I think." [translation: I would never meet you this soon, but today I happen to have a very real excuse.]

Doc407 proceeds to tell me that he will come over immediately and make soup for me. It seems that in my brief scan of his profile, I missed that he was a gourmet cook. As tempting as it sounds, I explain that that was just not going to happen.

I switch subjects immediately to get his fantasy out of my kitchen and asked him about his work. Ahh his opening... I get the introduction to his lecture on "alternative medicine and preventive lifestyles." I see where it's going...

"Have you eaten any animal flesh in the week preceding your illness? ... Yes? Well, there you have it. It's your fault."

I start to cough violently in the background and explain that I'm starting to feel much worse. I assure him that it's not necessary for him to rush to my aid. I'm sure I'll be fine after I take my medicine.

"Medicine. You aren't really going to take those toxic pharmaceuticals, are you?"

"No, never. I make them myself. (Cough, cough, cough) Got to go now. The next batch is almost ready."

As I drift off to sleep, I wonder if the other doctor has possibilities...but I'm too tired to check.

Note: the name Doc407 has been changed to protect the "innocent."