Tuesday, August 1, 2006 - 8:30 pm

So, today I was low. So low. Saw my therapist this morning. helpful. Indeed helpful - helpful in that I now realize that I should feel like total shit. But, oddly, that is helpful. Helpful in that I see that for the past couple of weeks I have probably been in shock. Like the whacky lady who gets in a car wreck and walks around in a fog looking for her car keys.

About 4 minutes after Mike died, I remember going in the little room off to the side surrounded by friends and just saying, "Do Bax and I have health insurance? Our health plan is through mike. And Mike's dead. Are we uninsured?"

I realized how insane it was to ask that right then, but... it's where my thoughts went. Shock does weird things. It gets people planning parties and writing thank yous and promoting celebrations when they should really just be sleeping.

Now that I'm starting to work through and get past those horrible memories of the last months and (especially) days, I'm remembering real Mike. My Smoosher Mike. And now I'm crashing. I picture him in this great ribbed rust colored sweater (his favorite color) with a cream colored button down underneath. Olive cords and rust colored socks to match the sweater. - He always matched socks to shirt. Very meterosexual that way, among other ways. - I picture him laughing and smiling, entertaining a room with just a quip. I picture his smiling eyes. Not his sleepy hospital eyes, but his smiling happy eyes. And these pictures make me feel crushed.

I do feel like it's helpful realizing that I share this loss with so many people. Mike wasn't a typical guy. He was connected with so many people in so many circles. So, it's not like friends are just here trying to help me get over this, but rather, we are all helping each other.


I had a great surprise visit from Tracie today. She came over at just the right time. Rock bottom. After Tracie came over, Heide tagged her out and we had a great lunch out. I napped for an hour and was woken up by a sweet flower delivery guy from Collingswood delivering a beautiful arrangment.

He looked at me as though he wanted to say something for a couple of seconds, then said,

"I think I remember delivering some flowers here just a couple of months ago for your graduation."

"Yeah, that was me."


"Did your husband die?"

"Yeah, he did."

"I'm so so sorry. That's awful. I'm so sorry."

"It's ok," I nodded, looked down and thanked him as I turned to go back inside. I must have looked like the picture of grief. Dishelved, unshowered, pillow creases on my face, sweaty, wearing a dirty wrinkled t-shirt. Whatever.

And, "It's ok?" I find myself saying shit like this. Like when I tell people the news for the first time and they are devastated and I try to ease their pain and discomfort by saying, "He was sick for a long time. It's for the best really." What the f*ck is that? For the best? Not exactly.

On a very positive note, my friend Maria, the mom of one of Bax's daycare buddies, knows people in the hotel business in Center City. She is working on getting a reduced rate for us at the Hotel Windsor (all suites) at 17th and the Parkway. The rate appears to be unbelievably good. I'll have more info for you all tomorrow. Just know, if you're coming in from out of town and need a place to stay, you will probably have amazing digs for Fri, Sat, and Sun night for cheap. So keep your eyes out on the blog.


The show: we've already sold almost 150 tickets! If you plan on going to the celebration, buy your tix now HERE. The show is going to be publicized within the Jefferson University Hospital system in about a week, and will be publicized in the Philly weeklies and Inquirer in 2 weeks. I want to be certain that all friends, family, coworkers, colleagues, acquiantances, nurses, therapists, and doctors get their seats before having to compete with the general public. I think the capacity for the space is around 3-400. While the table seating is going quickly, there are many general admission tix still available. General Admission does NOT mean you're going to spend 2 hours standing up. There will be many seats available - many theater style seats in the center section on the floor that are not shown on the website floorplan picture. But they do exist.


Ok. I'm tired. Susan cooked me a yummy dinner and flagged the Mr. Softee truck down so I have a 10 gallon bowl of soft serve waiting for me. love you. Danna


Anonymous said...

dear Danna,
You are still amazing, brave, and strong. Disheveled is okay too. You are not alone. You are not grieving alone. Hope Mr. Softee served you well. love, kiki

Anonymous said...

dear Danna,
You are still amazing, brave, and strong. Disheveled is okay too. You are not alone. You are not grieving alone. Hope Mr. Softee served you well. love, kiki

csm said...


Meant to tell you... i called my mom on my cell phone today... and when i punch "M" in on the keys to get to her #, "Mike's Cell" was the first one to show up in the Ms in my alphabet list... the sight of his name made me smile... and sad too... cuz I can't call him to say hi... but... i guess i can say hi to him all the time now in my mind... and verizon won't drop THAT call, either.

Oh Danna... i do wish i could be your strength for you... to lift all the heavy things that are weighing on your heart... to handle your anxious moments until they pass... and to cry your tears and punch the pillows for you till you can breathe easy... i would do all those things for you in the blink of an eye... you know that... all of us would fight to be first in line for the cause... it sucks that we can't take all of this on for you-- and give you the rest that you so deserve... it sucks that you have to go through all of this in such a personal, solitary way (even tho' you are constantly surrounded by love and support...)... it sucks that there are so many hands reaching out to carry you-- yet you have to sorta stand on your own feet and go thru this in real time vs. fast-forward... yeah... it sucks.

but i left tonite having faith in your ability to get through another night and another day tomorrow... and that you will have more moments of calm as each day passes...

and until the calm gets to be more than the crap... we'll all be there for you... to sit. to listen. to hold your hand. to feed you. to comfort you. to bring you silly magazines and say stupid things that make you laugh. to just be there... simply, to love you.

i know you know all this... i just couldn't help but say it again.

sleep tight,