Its Fridayyyyyyyy

I had only felt this feeling once before. It was when I was holding the letter I had received from my dream medical school. I hadn’t opened it yet, but I knew that this moment would either make or break me. This could either be remembered as one of the best moments of my life, or one of the biggest disappointments. I was home in Virginia, my mom had called me to tell me the letter came, so I drove home from college for the weekend to open it myself. I stood there in the kitchen where I had taken my first steps, pinned the boutonniere on my date to Junior prom, where I had sat at the table every night, working my ass off to graduate high school early, dreaming of being a doctor someday. When I stood there holding the letter, all of these memories flashed through my mind. Every minute of my life up until that moment would be either validated or arbitrary based on the content of that letter. It was a feeling that I had never felt before.  If I multiplied that feeling by about a hundred fold, that wouldn’t even come close to what I was feeling right now. It’s this hope and excitement that is burdened by the looming weight of potential bad news. So here I sit, waiting for Sean’s new neurologist, Dr. Davis, to come in the office.

He finally arrived, walking into Sean’s room. I stood to greet him, making my best attempt to be polite. I had heard a lot about him, that he used to work at Princeton, and that he was one of the best neurologists in the country. I am so glad that he somehow ended up in Boston.

“You must be the fiancée, Ms. Mettlen?” he said, reaching out to shake my hand.

“Dr. Mettlen actually, I’m a resident here. But you can call me Quinn.”

“How are you today Quinn?” Dr. Davis looked down at a file, I’m assuming Sean’s test results.

“I’m not quite sure yet, you tell me” I replied. I smiled lightly, trying to stop myself from breaking down, and trying not to seem like a wreck to one of the most respected doctors in the hospital. Dr. Davis was in his sixties, and was absolutely brilliant. He had a career that any doctor would kill for, but the man worked for it. He had dealt with situations like Sean’s before, but never one like mine.

“Well” he said, “Sean has been a bit more responsive lately, which is why I called you. Testing has concluded that cerebral swelling has gone down, and that his reflexes are beginning to return. These are good signs. However, there is still substantial trauma, and being a doctor yourself, you understand that it is very possible that if he does wake, there are going to be problems such as memory loss, problems with speech and motor function. It is unclear if there is any permanent damage, but we want you to be prepared for any outcome. I noticed that you are the only contact listed on his file, does Sean have any family that we should contact?”

“He only has a brother, but I’m not sure where he is or how to get ahold of him” I explained.

“I understand” Dr. Davis gave me a “say no more” look and stood.  He looked more than concerned and said “I am looking forward to working with you on Sean’s recovery”

With that he left the room. It was frustrating, having all of these meetings and never learning anything new about his condition. Standard procedure was to keep the family of the patient as informed as possible, but it wasn’t helpful in my situation. I am a doctor. I know what is going on. Unless there is a major breakthrough, all these meetings did was break me in pieces.

                I felt my phone vibrate in my bag. I took it out, and there was a text from my friend Kate.

                                It’s Fridayyyyyyyy…..a bunch of us are going out for drinks tonight and you are coming with us. I’ll come get you at around eight.

                I stared at the phone for a minute. Kate and the rest of my friends had been trying to get me out of my apartment for weeks now. I always insisted that I didn’t want to go, but tonight I wanted to get out and do something. I was sick of living like a widow, after all, I’m not.

                After careful deliberation, I finally mustered up the courage to reply.

                Great! Can’t wait.  where are we going?

                I met Kate through Sean. Actually, I met most of my friends here through Sean. Kate was the ring leader of our little pack of confused twenty-somethings. She was the one who was always making plans and organizing all of us.  We met about five years ago, at Sean’s first company Memorial Day picnic. She was dating someone who worked at the company at the time, I forget the guy’s name.  She was remarkably drunk and didn’t seem to care what anyone thought of her, and that perfectly captured her personality. There was a volleyball game going, and Sean mentioned to someone that I played in college, so Kate, being competitive, trashed, and super outgoing, grabbed my arm and yelled “Dibs on the quiet girl!”.

                “You are on my team but sorry babe, you don’t have a choice” she said to me with her classic grin. I think we won the game that day, but honestly I don’t really remember. I was having too much fun goofing around and drinking margaritas with Kate. At the end of the picnic, she invited me to be on her team for her softball league. Being new to Boston and having absolutely no friends outside of Sean, I agreed.

                About a month later, she broke up with Sean’s coworker, and he left the company a few months after that. I stayed close with her, and since the accident, she has been great about giving me space but still forcing me to be part of society every once in a while.  A week after it happened, I still hadn’t left my house. I couldn’t leave my living room. I couldn’t even go to sleep in my bedroom because it was the bed we had shared. The place was just so him. He had lived there for five years before I moved in. There were a few nights that I almost took down his pictures and put away his things, just so I could escape the looming pain that came with the possibility of losing him. The only reason I didn’t is because I couldn’t bear the thought that I might never unpack them. Kate came by and brought me my favorite lunch, and convinced me to just go for a walk. She made me realize that the only way to escape the pain was to stay busy.

                She replied with the name of the place we were meeting. We were going to Coleman’s, an old Irish pub that was recently sold to a younger couple. The bar had been there since the 1940s, and the new owners did a great job with making the place modern, yet still staying true to its history. It was my favorite bar in Boston. As soon as I realized why she had picked Coleman’s my heart sank. Kate knew that it was my favorite bar, and since I hadn’t left my apartment for anything other than work and regular errands, it occurred to me that this night was about me. The rest of my day became one big anxiety attack.

                I got home and changed into a black tank, leather jacket and boots. I really didn’t want to go, but I knew that I couldn’t back out now. I poured myself a glass of wine and sat at my counter, staring at the street out my window. My phone buzzed, and Kate’s message came across the screen.

“I’m walking up to your door, buzz me in bitch”

I took a deep breath and pressed the button on next to the door. A minute later, Kate burst through my door, and so started a night I would never forget.