We’d been waiting for this weekend.
A comedic writing workshop with the amazing Mandy Nolan; a birthday celebration for my beloved’s father; a chance for beloved and her siblings to be together for the first time in years; cuddles with babies; friendship. A big weekend, a good weekend, a weekend that we’d been counting down to.
I awoke with a sore nose and upon closer inspection, turns out I have a massive pimple growing on the inside of my right nostril. It’s still growing. My nose is still swelling. Beloved is calling me Papa Smurf, which is a little bit offensive.
The dog sitter was ready to roll, our bags were packed, the sun was shining.
It got to about 37 degrees (Celsius) and we were sweltering in beloved’s truck. Which was peculiar, given the air conditioner was on. It wasn’t until the sweat was rolling down my face and we were about an hour in to the trip that I queried as to the functionality of the air conditioner. Turns out it had none. Yep, after a service on the car last week, the air conditioner had died. And it was hot.
We carried on.
Now, my beloved loves her truck. And I admire the amount of stuff it can carry, and I love how much she enjoys it, and it’s great for carting stuff around. And I love that it’s her first ever brand new car. But the one thing it seems to be lacking is suspension. You tend to get bounced around and jarred and jolted for the duration of the trip.
Usually, this is fine and I can manage.
But when my Achilles surgery is still 12 days away and pain levels are out of control? This was not working.
After about three hours, of sweltering and sweating and clenching muscles to try to avoid being jolted, and stopping every half hour or so for stretching, beloved pulled into a roadside rest stop and we had a chat. About pain, about communicating pain, about options. Then she made some phone calls.
While she was on the phone, all I could think about was what she was missing out on because of my foot. About feeling old. About being so stuck with how things are, and knowing that while the solution is only 12 days away, it’s still 12 days away. And feeling guilty and horrible and crap that she has to miss stuff because of my foot, and that I have to miss stuff because of my foot.
We got in the car, and found somewhere for a cold drink. It was while beloved was eating an icecream that it happened. The photo opportunity that summed up the entire day. The dead air conditioner, the sweltering heat, the pain, the tears, the disappointment, the lost opportunities. And look at the devastation on her little face. Because, you see, on the table is half of her Gaytime.
It broke off, and melted into a puddle of brown and white milk. We watched it. I laughed.
Then we got in the car and headed for home.