Feeling: quiet
Listening to: Sarah McLachlan - Full of Grace
Reading/Watching: The Devil Wears Prada - Lauren Weisberger

For the record, Nimsay has had some manner of headache, be it migraine or otherwise, for the past two and a half weeks.

Last Wednesday she called home to ask her parents (who are both doctors) what might be the cause. Her mother flipped out and said it was meningitis. Her official (non-parental) doctor told her to go to a hospital to get tested.

She called me that afternoon, trying to sound like she wasn't crying, and I came home as soon as classes were finished to load her in my car sans scooter and take her to an ER. I think it was the first time she's let me lift her. Turns out I'm stronger than she thought.

She kept apologizing for the trouble. I assured her that, as this is my first time to arrive at an ER when it wasn't in an ambulance at 2 a.m. next to a friend who'd just attempted suicide, this would be my best hospital visit ever.

They made her put on one of those humiliating gowns (which made it clear why she'd wanted me to come; she needs help getting dressed and undressed, and didn't want an orderly taking care of her), and we waited while they tested just about everything they could, pricking her in nine different locations before they finally found an open vein to draw blood.

Turned out, she did not have meningitis. She had an unfortunately-located tension headache and a small virus that elevated her temperature. Once they gave her a muscle relaxer and some painkillers for her head, she was all kinds of cheery.

Mon coeur showed up shortly after I'd gone to get us some dinner, and stayed until Nimsay was finally discharged at 11 p.m. He helped me get her back in my car. (It was not the last time he had to recue me this week, but that's a story for later.)

Nimsay's mother was unconvinced that the danger was passed, and was only barely convinced not to fly down that night in place of first thing in the morning. When morning came, she arrived, bustling and anxious, and somehow I was drafted into service, told to come straight home from classes so I could help her get Nimsay to the airport.

I came home, missing work again, and helped them load up the cars, get Nimsay into the vehicle, and then led the way to the airport so I could help them unload once we got there.

She's going to be gone until the beginning of December, but she called Saturday night to tell me everything was all right. And her parents are apparently giving me a Christmas gift, which makes me feel like a heel for complaining about my evening being appropriated on Thursday.

So the last several days have been hectic, and only slowed down once the weekend came. With Nimsay gone, the apartment is frightfully quiet.

I wonder how she can stand it when I'm at school all day. The bustle is what I'm used to; this calm is unsettling.

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