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Sunday, May 22, 2016

YOU'RE NOT A YOUNG MAN ... BABY

Yet another adventure in Dannyland ...

SO, the plan was to go to the Ensenada/Rosarito Bike race the weekend of Danny's 62nd birthday.  The last time Danny went to Mexico was around 2010.  That weekend he was robbed of his phone, wallet, etc., et al., and it was basically a nightmare trying to locate where the hell he was.  Everytime I called his cell someone answered it but all I could hear was Mariachi music in the background.  Had he been kidnapped?  Was he being held for ransome?  Was his head on a stick along a highway?  Don't laugh ... it's crazy down there.  So when he arrived safe and sound, even though it was sans cell phone and credit cards, I told him that he would never EVER be allowed to go to Mexico again.  PERIOD.  


As is Danny's way he bugged and bugged and bugged and bugged and bugged and BUGGED THE SHIT OUTTA me to let him go to the bike race this year.  He cajoled, pleaded, begged, he promised gifts.  You have no idea how relentless a desperate man can be when he wants something.  Finally, I gave in.  It was either that or put a bullet in my head.  Besides, it was going to be a family weekend with lots of friends and I WOULD BE THERE to make sure he didn't lose his wallet, his phone, his bike, his mind, his head.  

Enter the UNFORESEEN.  My dear aunt passed away the week before we were to travel to Mexico.  As fate would have it, her memorial was scheduled for Danny's birthday, May 6, the day we were to leave for Mexico.  OF.  COURSE.
So, he goes to Mexico, I fly to Arizona to attend the service.

I call him when I arrive and the phone goes straight to voicemail.  FUCK.  I KNOW.  I ALREADY KNOW something is not right.  I call and call and the phone goes to voicemail all day Friday and all day Saturday ... no answer.  I cannot tell you how livid and worried I am.  THIS IS JUST LIKE DANNY.  That phone could be ANYWHERE IN THE WORLD.  My house, his car, a bathroom stall, a counter top, the Grand Canyon ... ANYWHERE.    

My trip was quick. Fly out Friday, fly home Saturday.  His trip, leave Friday, return Sunday.  I get home around 4 pm on Saturday.  I try calling him again.  Same result.  UGH.  If there's anything I hate it's hunting my husband down.  I hate feeling like a paranoid wife but what can I tell you, I'm a paranoid wife.  I leave voice mails AND texts with two friends who are with him.  No one returns my call or texts.  Oh shit.  Something is seriously wrong.  Around 10 pm I get a text that says ... "Hi.  We're coming home.  See you in a few hours."  WTF.  He's not due to come home until tomorrow.  What the hell is up?  I call his friend and he answers!  He gives the phone to DannyI wanted to scream at him but was so relieved he was on the phone and alive I just asked him what was going on?  "Well" he says "here's the thing.  I wrecked and cracked three ribs."  In my mind I'm like of course you cracked your ribs.  What else?  I questioned him about a planned trip we are scheduled to make the following week to the Philippines for our daughter's wedding.  He says he's going to see what the doctor says.  

Long story longer, he doesn't get home until 3:30 am looking HORRIBLE.  I should have rushed him to the ER right then but I was so F****ING mad at him for (1) not having someone contact me about his accident (his accident happened at 10 am Saturday morning!  I didn't learn anything about it until 10 pm that night) and (2) keeping me in the dark because he was afraid of what I'd do, that when he stumbled up the stairs wrapped in gauze and looking like he wanted to die I was so tempted to punch him in the face but instead just turned over and went to sleep.   

The following morning we went to the ER in The United States of America where they immediately did a CT scan, x-rays, drew blood and shot a dye into his veins to see if he had any internal bleeding in his chest.  He had three broken ribs, a broken collar bone, a broken scapula (shoulder blade) AND A BROKEN FINGER.  Naturally, we weren't able to go to the Philippines, lost money there, and I've spent my two week vacation taking care of him.  Here's the complaint.  All he watches on T.V. is SNAPPED, Anthony Bourdain, and other various cooking and murder shows.  I'M LOSING MY MIND ALREADY.