March 11. It’s been one year since the last day I can truly remember that everything was okay. And the really fucked up part is that on March 11, 2012, I was so damn hungover that I spent much of that day in the bathroom throwing up. I missed out on experiencing that day in full form and I have so much regret.
March 11 is my grandpa’s birthday. Last year, Jay and I flew up to NY because it was a big long weekend of family birthday celebrations; March is a BIG birthday month for my family. I went out to celebrate my sister’s birthday in NYC and drank too much. We had given up beer for Lent, so I drank liquor. It goes down so much quicker than beer does.
March 11 was, minus the hangover, a happy day. We went to an Italian restaurant in Syosset, NY to celebrate Grandpa’s 81st birthday. We joked about the “curse” of that restaurant – the first time we all went, Jeremiah #2 got sick from overeating. The second time, Christie had a bit too much wine & got sick in the most fantastic way possible. The third time was me. I swear, I went to the bathroom so many times that afternoon that the staff must have thought I had a Lohan problem. I hate myself so much for being so sick that I couldn’t even stand the smell of the food.
March 11 was also the day that Jen Ozawa announced that she had breast cancer. I remember the exact moment that I saw her Tweet the link to her blog about it. My heart sank; it was just the start of the Year of Cancer.
March 17 is when it all changed with a late-night E.R. visit. I Googled the symptoms after compulsively cleaning the entirely apartment at midnight. I just knew it was cancer. I cried a lot. When my mom told me a week later, I was prepared. I was surprised to learn that everyone else was surprised. I think they had to have known deep down. But I still remember exactly where I was when my mom told me it was cancer. I remember exactly where I was when I said to her, “While all of you were in the E.R. last week, I had searched the symptoms. I knew. I know.”
March 11, 2012. I want to go back to there so badly. I wish I could change how much I drank the night before. I wish it could go back to the way it was before March 17. But it can’t. Time marches onwards.