Hell Week and a Quart of Oil

Back in my early theater days, the concept of Hell Week was introduced to me. Hell Week, otherwise known as Tech Week, was the time before the opening night of a show, where all finishing touches would have to take place and the show would have to get on its feet completely before Dress rehearsal. It was a grueling week that usually started on a Friday night and ran through the weekend and every night leading up to the Dress. Then there was the premiere, and you hoped that everything went as smoothly as you had planned for the last 567 hours.

I went through my first real Hell Week with Sahar by my side, and I have gone through many, many more since. So when I told her previously about my plans for my past week, she immediately dubbed it Hell Week and remained my cheerleader throughout.

The week was a combination of two things: me working both my jobs and me battling illness when I wasn’t at either of my jobs. Also, throw a kiddos weekend in there. It was not an easy one is my point, but somehow I have made it to today- Tuesday- and I am alive and I am awake and I am not at work and no one is here. And it is glorious.

Did this show go off without a hitch? Certainly not. There were many bumps and bruises along the way, even in the literal sense. Customer service work made me cry for the first time, so I guess I’m in the club now. My job with kids made me cry for the eleventy-thousandth time, and that’s a club I’ve been in for a while. And I cried a hell of a lot last night, when I got weirdly sick. See, I know when it’s gastroparesis that’s got me, and my immediate response is to go to the hospital so they can give me the shot to make it stop. Do I wish they had some sort of pill of this medication then I could just take or a shot I could administer myself? Of course I do, but that’s not an option yet; technology hasn’t arrived. But this time I felt weird. So weird in fact, that I asked my father to stay with me at the hospital. Sometimes he will take me into admissions but he always goes home and leaves me there afterwards especially since the Covid years. But last night I was a little scared because the sickness did not feel the same in a way, so he stayed with me. They came and they gave me the shot, with some Ativan for good measure, and then I went to sleep and when I woke up my dad was sitting next to me watching TV. It made me sad- that man has spent way too many nights sitting in a hospital room watching TV.

When I got home, I went to bed, and when I woke up, I felt better. All signs pointing towards a healthy day but then again- I was fine yesterday. It didn’t hit me until night time, another reason I found the whole thing weird. When I get sick, I get sick first thing in the morning. That is the way the gastroparesis works for me. This seemed like some bug or virus that knocked me down last night. Either way, I am tired. I am tired because I worked for 2 weeks straight and the only day I had off I spent in the ER. I am tired because while my kids were here I was not able to cook them dinner or spend time with them. And I am tired of my car being my car.

But today, I will take a little time for me. I have a nice little morning to myself, and I feel pretty good (fingers crossed,) so maybe I will take myself on a little adventure…to Autozone. Where I need to buy more oil for my stupid car. It’s the little things that keep you going.  Like a quart of oil.


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