How To Save A Life

Not sure I'm up to writing, but you know, I guess there's always that try factor.

On Friday night I oversaw my first show at my bar. Completely me. I booked the bands. I did the P.A. I did well. Everyone was stoked. Happy. It was a good show. It was the first time I ever took serious pride in my work. EVER.

Fast forward, I djed a party later that night. Also went extremely well. The company that offered me the job has asked me back. I'm very happy to be back djing again. Even if it is some high kid coming up and saying "hey man, I love this song! I love you!" I still take some fucking pride in that.

Fast forward to Sunday night. I'm hanging out with my best friend Sarah and her new boyfriend Bob. Sarah, out of nowhere, goes into anaphalatic shock. In my arms. She stops breathing. I put her on the floor and immediately begin to do mouth to mouth and CPR. Bob, her boyfriend, frantic, dials 911. I'm turning her over and she coughs and vomits on the floor and continue to give her oxygen til the paramedics arrive.
When the paramedics arrive they give her a trachemotemy, and to which she begins a scream I will never forget. They rush her to the hospital. One pauses long enough to tell me if I hadn't done what I'd done she'd have brain damage at best. Likely, she would have died. Then they tell us to follow her to Greenwood hospital.

I held her hand until she opened her eyes. They had inserted a tube down her throat to help her breathe. Bob and I stayed until 6am when they kicked us out. Meanwhile, I'm continually calling her father and keeping him updated of her condition while he's back in Chicago. It wasn't looking good for a bit.
They removed her tube around ten am and we were allowed back a short time later.
Sarah recovered beautifully barring some scarring in her throat from the tube. She's home and well now.

Bob and I spent the night at his place clinging to each other for comfort. Praying all would turn out. We talked a lot. Bob, as it turns out, is quite an amazing man. I found myself seriously attracted to someone since everything ended in September with J. I don't know if it was the trauma that brought us together or what, but as it turns out there is no one else to speak to about something like this. No one can understand. I held Sarah's life in my fucking hands, and I had to make the decision to play God. I mean, like there's a choice right? I shoved that air down her throat and pumped her lungs til I was damn sure it was gunna be ok.

I almost lost my closest friend...

Anyway, since everything I've been deeply entrenched in a PTSD episode. I saw my therapist today as an emergency, and I see a new doctor monday to figure out meds to get me through this- but really what can you say? People are calling me a hero. I fucking hate it. Like what was my choice? To be an asshole? Of COURSE I sprang to action and made sure she was gunna be ok.

Outside of my wild, "life saving" weekend, I have waited with baited breath to see if karma would do me one. Just to have Johnny call. And, no big surprise here, no word what so ever.
Not only that but because I was in the hospital with Sar, I missed one of my appts. That doctor will no longer see me now. HA! Do something good, get fucked. You know? I never learn. My meds are running out quickly which means I have to go to the E.R

Oh, and as an update I can't do SHIT about what's going on with my body til March 14th. Turns out nobody cares about people on Medicaid. Big surprise here.

Believe it or not, though this entry sounds... whatever... I AM positive I can get the med sitch worked out on Monday SOMEHOW. And I am very, very glad I was with Sarah and she is alive.

Meanwhile... Johnny will not return emails, texts, or calls. I'm pretty sure he no longer gives a shit about me. As Joanna says "when they're done, they're done."

Guess then, it's officially time for me too, to go into the future and do as I should. From this point forward I assume he no longer reads, responds, or cares one way or the other about what happens to me. This makes me so incredibly sad- if you could feel it there would be a black hole. But I can never make someone care for me who can't. I really do fucking wish there had been a real chance for a goodbye. I've wracked my brain. I've worked on my career. I've stayed celibate and single hoping that it would make it easier to reconnnect with me when he wanted to come back. Now I can't believe he does.

It's not like there can be a worse fate for me than his silence. And that is all he gives. It breaks me. But even through his promises- I knew his past from his exs. I hoped to be different. I hoped that my love could be seen in any form. I see now that because of whatever romantic attachment he felt for me, he simply can't. More to the point, won't.
I ache when I pass his street. My heart skips when I hear his name. I want EVERY GOOD THING for him. But sometimes I pass his street on my way to gigs and see Amber's car there. I guess... Well, I guess tearing me down worked. And he couldn't see through what was really going on. His life went back to exactly the way it was. And I had to change everything about mine.

I'm back in the hospital in March. I'll keep you posted. All the fucking drama wears me out.

WORK MOTHERFUCKING BODY!!!! WORK!!!! Quit fucking around with me! Please! Give up on me, or give me some rest. I can't keep doing this.
I'm tired of living on pills. Day to day.
GIVE ME A FUCKING BREAK.

I'm writing lyrics. I have melodies. Depending on "the band" I have my first solo (but with a live band) in April.

I'm too sore. Tired. Exhausted to write more.

I.Just.Cant.

Please forgive me. Dear Spirits, Please forgive me.