(no subject)
Saturday, around 9 pm:
A dancer that I know is in a coma. He went in for jaw surgery and the nurse gave him an antibiotic that he was allergic to.
Edit at 10:16 pm:
He's being taken off life-support on Monday
Edit at 10:46 pm:
I'm going to see him tomorrow with a bunch of swing kids.
----
Edit at 2:19 pm next day (Sunday):
I went to the hospital. The charge nurse told me he had died at ~1145 last night.
I've cried more today than I have in the past year put together.
I returned home, and my dad immediately demanded me to come upstairs and tell him everything that happened. When I told him that I need to go downstairs and eat, he started yelling at me, talking about respect and how I should care more about my family than my "friend of 3 months". 3 months? Try six. Anyway, I fucking hate him, and at that moment, I wanted to kill him. I imagined all the ways that I would do it-- pulling a thick book from the bookshelf and hitting him fiercely on his head, wrapping my hands around his neck...
I opened myself up yesterday in front of him. I cried when I told him about my friend being in a coma--asked him if I could spend the night at a friend's house because visiting hours were after 6 (I found out the next day it's between 7 am and 9 pm?)... he said we'd talk the next morning. I got on the bus before he work, and today, he called me in the morning saying how I had to be home (not even a friend dying would shake his opinion on where I sleep at night, apparently.) and that I have to stick to the routine in the midst of all of this (gist of it). Ha--as if I could ever 'keep my routine', with this kind of shock.
I've thought about it more now...and I realize that he doesn't understand why I feel sad because I don't think he has any real friendships--and he doesn't understand why I could be so impacted after knowing someone for less than a year. I would rather be able to connect with people and feel this pain than not have any of these connections--so...I feel sorry for him.
RIP, Mikhail.
----
Edit at 3:22 pm, Sunday:
It feels like I shouldn't end this entry like this.
Things I love about Mikhail:
- his smile
- how he complimented me on my turns, and made me feel good about my dancing.
- how I was one of his 'guinea pigs' that he'd try random moves on
- his grace and fluidity of motion
- his way of living life fully--he wore a gigantic sumo wrestling suit to the halloween party, and he went all out at the masquerade ball, wearing a mask and white gloves and looking so... hep. =)
- how he'd tease me every time I 'tackled' him when asking him to dance, being all 'ahh, she got meeee".
- his teaching--being willing to do a move over again, telling me what I needed to do differently.
- he always, always, respected me in a dance. never looked bored (even if he may have been, since I'm not as good of a dancer by any means), always smiling... enjoying himself.
- his passion for salsa-dancing. he was at halo almost every friday night, i'm sure. The two nights that I ended up going that year, he would always brighten when seeing me--so happy to see another swing kid give salsa a try (salsa was def. his favorite over the two)
- my favorite salsa dancer, hands down.
I've been fluctuating through various waves of emotion-- anger, that he died so young... he was 20. Anger, that an allergic reaction to either the pain killers he was given or the antibiotic that he was given led to his death (an autopsy will confirm which...or what else led to his death). Laughter, hearing my friend Laura talk about the sumo suit (I didn't get to dance with him while he was wearing it--they ended up doing a lot of solo charleston during the dance, haha). Lots of sadness. I cried after my conversation with the charge nurse at the ICU, went to the chapel where I found various prayers in their binder--one of them, that I love. They didn't have the sanskrit, but they had the english translation in there--but I knew the sanskrit by heart (it's one of my favorite mantras), so I said it there, in the chapel. And I also found the gayatri mantra in there, and I said that too.
The first:
Asato Ma Sat Gamaya
Tamaso Ma Jyotir Gamaya
Mrityor Maamritam Gamaya
Let us be led from the unreal to the Real
From darkness to the Light
From mortality to Eternity
Gayatri mantra:
oṃ bhūr bhuvaḥ svaḥ
tat savitur vareṇyaṃ
bhargo devasya dhīmahi
(dhiyo yo naḥ prachodayāt
Oh God! Thou art the Giver of Life,
Remover of pain and sorrow,
The Bestower of happiness,
Oh! Creator of the Universe,
May we receive thy supreme sin-destroying light,
May Thou guide our intellect in the right direction.
I'm at peace with this, for now. Just for now.
A dancer that I know is in a coma. He went in for jaw surgery and the nurse gave him an antibiotic that he was allergic to.
Edit at 10:16 pm:
He's being taken off life-support on Monday
Edit at 10:46 pm:
I'm going to see him tomorrow with a bunch of swing kids.
----
Edit at 2:19 pm next day (Sunday):
I went to the hospital. The charge nurse told me he had died at ~1145 last night.
I've cried more today than I have in the past year put together.
I returned home, and my dad immediately demanded me to come upstairs and tell him everything that happened. When I told him that I need to go downstairs and eat, he started yelling at me, talking about respect and how I should care more about my family than my "friend of 3 months". 3 months? Try six. Anyway, I fucking hate him, and at that moment, I wanted to kill him. I imagined all the ways that I would do it-- pulling a thick book from the bookshelf and hitting him fiercely on his head, wrapping my hands around his neck...
I opened myself up yesterday in front of him. I cried when I told him about my friend being in a coma--asked him if I could spend the night at a friend's house because visiting hours were after 6 (I found out the next day it's between 7 am and 9 pm?)... he said we'd talk the next morning. I got on the bus before he work, and today, he called me in the morning saying how I had to be home (not even a friend dying would shake his opinion on where I sleep at night, apparently.) and that I have to stick to the routine in the midst of all of this (gist of it). Ha--as if I could ever 'keep my routine', with this kind of shock.
I've thought about it more now...and I realize that he doesn't understand why I feel sad because I don't think he has any real friendships--and he doesn't understand why I could be so impacted after knowing someone for less than a year. I would rather be able to connect with people and feel this pain than not have any of these connections--so...I feel sorry for him.
RIP, Mikhail.
----
Edit at 3:22 pm, Sunday:
It feels like I shouldn't end this entry like this.
Things I love about Mikhail:
- his smile
- how he complimented me on my turns, and made me feel good about my dancing.
- how I was one of his 'guinea pigs' that he'd try random moves on
- his grace and fluidity of motion
- his way of living life fully--he wore a gigantic sumo wrestling suit to the halloween party, and he went all out at the masquerade ball, wearing a mask and white gloves and looking so... hep. =)
- how he'd tease me every time I 'tackled' him when asking him to dance, being all 'ahh, she got meeee".
- his teaching--being willing to do a move over again, telling me what I needed to do differently.
- he always, always, respected me in a dance. never looked bored (even if he may have been, since I'm not as good of a dancer by any means), always smiling... enjoying himself.
- his passion for salsa-dancing. he was at halo almost every friday night, i'm sure. The two nights that I ended up going that year, he would always brighten when seeing me--so happy to see another swing kid give salsa a try (salsa was def. his favorite over the two)
- my favorite salsa dancer, hands down.
I've been fluctuating through various waves of emotion-- anger, that he died so young... he was 20. Anger, that an allergic reaction to either the pain killers he was given or the antibiotic that he was given led to his death (an autopsy will confirm which...or what else led to his death). Laughter, hearing my friend Laura talk about the sumo suit (I didn't get to dance with him while he was wearing it--they ended up doing a lot of solo charleston during the dance, haha). Lots of sadness. I cried after my conversation with the charge nurse at the ICU, went to the chapel where I found various prayers in their binder--one of them, that I love. They didn't have the sanskrit, but they had the english translation in there--but I knew the sanskrit by heart (it's one of my favorite mantras), so I said it there, in the chapel. And I also found the gayatri mantra in there, and I said that too.
The first:
Asato Ma Sat Gamaya
Tamaso Ma Jyotir Gamaya
Mrityor Maamritam Gamaya
Let us be led from the unreal to the Real
From darkness to the Light
From mortality to Eternity
Gayatri mantra:
oṃ bhūr bhuvaḥ svaḥ
tat savitur vareṇyaṃ
bhargo devasya dhīmahi
(dhiyo yo naḥ prachodayāt
Oh God! Thou art the Giver of Life,
Remover of pain and sorrow,
The Bestower of happiness,
Oh! Creator of the Universe,
May we receive thy supreme sin-destroying light,
May Thou guide our intellect in the right direction.
I'm at peace with this, for now. Just for now.