Today has been quite the bizarre day. First, I missed the bus (again) and had to take a taxi to work (again). Then, craziness from evilplagarismbitch occurred, making the twitter world all abuzz with dramz. In case you missed it, she’s this “blogger” who basically copied ALL of her content– including her BIO!– from other bloggers, like The Bloggess, Mommy Wants Vodka, and other badass ladies/awesome writers. Of course, once it got out that one of her posts was totally jacked, everyone started discovering strangely familiar content that she’d yanked from other people’s blogs. Wtf? Everyone’s reactions made me start thinking about being thankful though, that these some of the bloggers standing up for the plagiarized ones are my friends too… you can’t put a price on loyalty like that.
Amidst all the insanity blowing up my twitter feed, and, y’know, WORK, I got a text from my dad saying “hannah checking into hospital. don’t call, will text later.” Uh dad? I’m calling your ass. Like now.
My darling dad doesn’t quite get that when you tell me something like that, I get panicky. Immediately. As in, as the phone is ringing, I’m already having a panic attack. Mind you, I’m still AT THE OFFICE. He tells me they’re in the waiting room and that he can’t talk or something like that.
HELLO FULL-BLOWN PANIC ATTACK.
So I go back to my desk and start looking at flights to LA. Found cheap ones and text my dad saying “I found flights, want to come out and at least cook meals or shit” (cuz really, that’s all I’m good for). Finally my mom calls me back to talk me down, saying that H is ok, but that the pulmonary specialist they saw (because her ER visit 2 nights prior had come with a pneumonia diagnosis) thinks it’s this thing called Valley Fever, which would explain her funktastic lung scans and the super painful hives, and that the doc recommended the hospital to get all the tests done in one place and done quickly. Luckily, I was only 30 minutes from the end of the work day (and a 45 min commute home)… and a job pseudo-interview… but THEN I got to get back to my full-fledged panic attack again. Crying, shaking, no breathing, the works. God bless ativan, eh?
Guys, this is my baby (well, not so baby anymore) sister we’re talking about here. She doesn’t get to go to the emergency room. That’s my job, and I stand by that job proudly, tyvm. Seriously though, it kills me to hear that she’s doing blood test #5 and that she’s hurting.
This has just made me realize again how.freaking.thankful I am for my family. H & I fought 24/7 for pretty much the entire 16 years she was alive before I moved out. But damnit, I still love her. We’re polar opposites, amazingly so for two girls so close in age, brought up in the same household, the same city… but she’s MY SISTER. It kills me to think of her going through this shit, but I’m really thankful that my parents are there for her, and that my Aunt Julie (who is so incredible) has offered to fly down to help or do what she can to help my sis get into her new apartment at school next week. It looks like this will get cleared up quickly, and hopefully H will be back to her normal silly self in no time. It’s killer not being there, but I guess it was just one of those moments in life where you have to look at what you have and realize that you are really fucking lucky. Love you, kiddo ❤ Nini