These days I am still caught up in remembering Continental Savings and SF work stories. I am guessing it is because the friendships made there changed my life. Those amazing people I worked with have constantly reached out to me, providing me with fabulous career choices several times over. Maybe it is because I am so torn about what I am trying to accomplish that subconsciously I wish one of them would rescue me like Cinderella from the dirty basement.
Here I am helping my x husband with his marketing, writing a newsletter on mortgage banking and often think if I have to see him one more time I will blow my brains out (rhetorically speaking people) – maybe I should say blow his brains out? (Laugh) When June was over, we discussed my quandary and she felt it was the best way to make money while I explore this dream of mine. It does provide Brian with the ability of seeing his parents work together in a businesslike manner and I notice how much easier it is to manage Brian’s day to day with someone I can order to help me – his dad. I do come and go as I please and I will say my x has mellowed over the years. He grosses me out though and some days I am an absolute bitch to him just because I cannot stand the sight of him. (Now don't think I have issues here - my friends know what he is like - it is justifiable and remember I can have issues with someone and still play nice. He is my son's father and my son loves him. These are just my deep inner thoughts).
I think this is the way you are suppose to feel about an x…
He seems to understand it and roll with it by leaving his office for long hours while I am there. June says “And this sucks how? As long as you make your dream come true – this is just a mini pit stop chica.”
Yeah, but it is boring and I so do not do boring well.
When I used to ride the bus to SF, every single day something interesting happened. My mother used to call me every other day just to hear the stories. The commute was made famous several times in the Ann Lander’s column. The behavior of the businessmen who commuted from Sonoma County on bus 76 pissed people off so much that they wrote into Ann Landers on a regular basis.
Along with the rude businessmen there were the construction guys who rode the buses into the city to work on the high rises. These construction guys were the real heroes. I often wondered how they ever got up so early, rode a commute bus, worked hard labor all day and rode the long commute bus ride back home every day. There was this group of five guys that were pipe fitters that would always save me my same seat. If I was cold, they would cover me with their jackets, thirsty, give me their water, bored read me their paper.
Frank was my favorite, a married father of six. I started dating my x husband at this time and Frank would give me dating advise from 'a guys point of view'. My x husband and I had a whirlwind romance in that we were married within 9 months of meeting each other. We met in late June, engaged in September and married the following April. It gives me hives just thinking about it.
In December I noticed the evening bus commute was making me ill and as soon as I would be off the bus I would want to puke. I could not figure out what was going on until I discovered I was two weeks late. Yes folks I was pregnant for the very first time. My x and I were excited and I was trying to figure out how I was going to tell my very Catholic mother that her daughter was about to walk down the isle pregnant.
One morning the bus was almost full when i got on, seems one of the earlier commute buses had broken down. My spot was taken, but Frank saved me a seat in front of him. I wasn't feeling well, and I hadn't bothered putting make up on, figuring I would once I got into work. I went right to sleep and woke up as we were passing Novato, a city about half way to SF. I was sweating, but cold and there was this sharp pain in my lower right side.
At first I thought the pain was just a cramp and it would go away. Then I began to realize that this was not a normal pain and I was really ill. I turned around in my seat and looked behind me where Frank was fast asleep in his seat. I tapped his knee and he awoke to me, "Frank something is seriously wrong. (I started to cry) I don't feel good. I think it is my appendix." The businessman next to me shot out of his seat without ever looking at me and practically ran to a new seat at the front of the bus. This is exactly what these bus riding businessmen were like. Frank got into the seat next to me, took my pulse, felt my forehead, and announced, "You are very sick Cat. Will you be ok long enough for me to go to the bus driver?" "Yes" I replied as I began to double over in pain. The other construction guys were waking up asking Frank what was wrong with me. Frank explained and headed to the bus driver.
I should say that the commute buses are a straight shot to the city. There are no stops until the Golden Gate bridge. We were only halfway, stuck in traffic on the freeway. Frank comes back and pulls my bags from the overhead. He tells his friends to get his stuff and tell their boss he won't be in. He looks down at me and says, "The bus driver has called for an ambulance Cat. He is pulling off the freeway. I will help you." The other guys gathered our things and Frank lifted me from my seat. I was very ill by this point I didn't think that this stranger was about to give up his work day to rescue me.
The bus pulls to the side of the freeway in Marin, where there is a commute island for the Marin County commute buses. Frank lays me down on the cement bench while the guys hand him our things from the bus. The bus leaves us, with me lapsing in and out of consciousness and Frank kneeling at my side telling me to hang on. In the day before cell phones, we were all alone.
I could hear the ambulances faintly in the distance. As it turns out, they were on the wrong side of the freeway. People stuck in commute stared at me through their car windows. I am sure I looked like some homeless person in a nice dress sleeping on the commute bench. Frank was jumping up and down wildly waving his arms as if the firemen could really see him across eight freeway lanes, two bus islands and a center divide. As I looked at all the people driving by, no one stopping to help I thought 'Good lord, I am going to die on a park bench, with no make-up and tennis shoes with a dress'.
The ambulance finally finds us, along with 5 large fire trucks. To this day I still can't figure out why the fire trucks were needed. Suddenly I am surrounded by men ... good looking men ... and all I can think of is 'God I sure must look like shi*'. The main paramedic began asking me a series of questions as they place an oxygen tube to my nose. He gets to about the 8th question, hesitates, then asks, "When was the last time you had sex?" All the firemen, paramedics and police are gathered close around me. It is always interesting when my red-headed temper sets in.
"What in the sam hell? Why on earth would you be asking me such a personal question? What kind of paramedic are you? Since when does my appendix have anything fuc**ing to do with sex?!?!?" I yell out practically knocking the guy over with my voice. All the other firemen, paramedics and policemen suddenly stand straight and back far away. It seems they have all had experiences with a redhead before. "Miss", he swallows, "I am not trying to be personal but I will be calling this information into the hospital, and they will be advising us on how to treat you". "And my sex life factors into this exactly how?" I respond as the other paramedics pull the gurney up. I realize I have no panties on - just hosiery. This is exactly the thing mothers warm you about with 'the clean underclothes in case you are in an accident' saying.
They lift me on to the gurney as I try to keep my legs glued together to avoid further humiliation. I still haven't answered the sex question, and Frank asks me for Terry's (my x husband) phone number. I can't remember it for anything, and Frank tells me not to worry. He has no idea the worries going through my head....no panties...look like hell...what will the appendix scar look like...will this hurt my baby...
Once at the hospital emergency room I am whisked away for a battery of tests, of which I pass out through most. Upon awakening, I am in this tiny room hooked up to an IV and my mother is standing over me. "Honey, you had a tubular pregnancy that ruptured. It didn't damage your ovary, but you lost the baby." I hadn't even thought of this, and answered "It isn't my appendix?" "No hon ... you lost the baby". I rolled over to my pillow and began to cry, "I want to go home" I said, "Where's Terry?"
It seems Frank rode in the ambulance and then from the hospital pay phone called Santa Rosa directory and eventually found Terry to tell him what was happening. Terry called my mom, and they rushed to the hospital to find me. Frank had left the hospital to catch a late bus into work, so I didn't get to see him to thank him.
I was off work for almost two weeks and when I boarded that first bus back Frank and the guys were waiting and began to clap. The bus driver smiled and said "Welcome back to the grind red", and I was back with my commute friends.
This was not the only time Frank would reach out and save me. I had my own personal guardian angel, and he was tall, cute, a great husband and father...and a very dear friend.
Until next time-
C
