Setback #2

Yesterday I had a co-worker who speaks Spanish call the doctor in Tijuana to see when I could pick up the medicines. She told him of my situation with my car being broken into and my medicines being stolen. He said that he was open until 6:00 p.m. today and that he would replace them for free. I felt very grateful for that and was planning on bringing him a bouquet of flowers to show my appreciation. Today I trekked down there to pick up the medicines and was glad that I forgot the flowers.

I took Mikayla's car, since mine is still parked in the garage with a broken window. I left work on time and got gas. I guess I was worried about driving down there by myself, which could be why I forgot to put the gas cap back. I didn't notice it until I got to the doctor's.

Traffic was bad, so it took me an hour to get to the border. I parked my car outside the doctor's at 5:30 p.m. When I emerged from the elevator, I noticed that the lights were out in his office. I couldn't believe that the office could be closed. I went down the hall and yelled "Hola!" A young woman appeared from the dental office that is in the same suite. My Spanish is so rusty, and when I am upset, the pipe just dries up, so I couldn't think of any Spanish words except "Habla Ingles?" The dentist spoke English so I asked her when the doctor had left and explained that I was there to pick up some medicines. We walked back to the receptionist station. There is about a foot of space between a huge piece of glass and the counter, but through the glass we could see a bulging plastic bag of medicines on a little table just beyond the counter. We both thought they could be mine, so I tilted my head and squeezed my arm and shoulder under the glass and reached for the bag. Unfortunately they were labeled Maria, not Rosalyn. I wanted to cry.

After putting the bag back by contorting my upper body again, the dentist explained that she is always in the office until 7:00 p.m. and if I left my name she would be sure to get my order from the doctor. I thanked her and left.

Several years ago, before I was assaulted in Tijuana, I used to go down there frequently, and remembered a way back to the border that cut time off of the wait. I was a little nervous driving around not sure of where I was going but decided to chance it. It would have been a more pleasant drive if my friend at work who referred me to Dr. G. had not just told me that there were seven murders in TJ last weekend, some with decapitations. They had something to do with that big drug cartel dude being extradited to the U.S. I was thinking of that as sirens screamed while I looked for the shortcut. I found it but as soon as I got within seeing distance of the border, the traffic backed up. It literally did not move one foot for half an hour. They must have temporarily closed the border because it wasn't just my lane that was at a complete standstill; no one was moving in any of the dozen or so lanes. I turned my car off.

I wish I knew how to cry. It would really help me in times like these. Instead, my emotions get constipated inside of me. I get hardened. Tears soften and expel emotion. My emotions just make me brittle.

An hour and a half later I crossed the border. It is not fun inching along in a car with a standard transmission and with some idiot behind me who would honk everytime the car in front of me would move up a few feet.

Tomorrow is a new day and a new adventure. And yes, stress does have something to do with migraines. I have one now.