After a extremely frustrating conversation with 'the mother', I decided to sit outside, read a book and listen to some tunes on my MP3 player.

I have the french doors from the dining area to the deck open just a bit so the felines who rule my world can come in/out as they please.

While I'm reading, I kept hearing a loud chirping noise - thought that maybe said felines had brought a bird in without my knowledge or one had flown in on their own accord. I go inside to investigate, see and hear nothing, so I go back to my book.

An hour or so later, I hear the chirping again, (thanks to a ballad on auto-play). It's darn loud and Lulu is sitting by my avocado tree. I have 'that feeling' that something is up...

So I hop up, go inside. Lulu backs off. I hear the chirping coming from behind the large avocado planter just inside the french doors.... So I start to wiggle it back, expecting to find a bird.

But noooooooooooooooooooo. No bird there.

Instead, it's Alvin. Dumbest/luckiest fucking chipmunk known to mankind. (May I remind you that there are piles upon piles of peaches that are there for his eating just outside his hole but noooooooo, he has to come inside. Doesn't he ever learn????)

When my friend Jen told me that she had believed her convicted-felon, admitted adulterous, diagnosed sociopathic husband for an instant that I had been fooling around with him (I'd never met the guy or even seen a picture of him...), I sent back all of her cards, letters and pictures.

Or at least I thought I had...

A few minutes ago, I came upon a postcard she had sent me - talking about how she wanted us to go snowboarding, white-water rafting, and diving together soon. And she had signed it, "Friends for life".

Once again, grief, regret and tears overcome me. I know I cannot change the past - there are many things that I wish I could, all I can do is remember what she brought to my life.

I've decided to write her father a letter, asking if he could provide details of what happened to Jen. And to ask if by any chance, the letters and photos I sent back - if they find them, if they could return them. I'd love to have something of Jen's be it a pair of earrings or something sentimental, that I could keep close to me - to remind me of her spirit. I know it's in my heart, but having that something more... but I won't ask that - that's too much.

Went back to the ER this morning at 4am. Had been running a fever and Tylenol wasn't helping. Got into the "Blue Zone" this time at 8am. Remarked that I was feeling light-headed (apparently that accelerated the process LOL). While a nurse was deciding about which weekend correlated with a pay period for a trip to Vegas and another one spent time putting sheets on rows of empty gurneys, I sat in "The BLUE ZONE" for another hour - watched a HUGE guy handcuffed to the gurney being brought in but no one had a handcuff key. (Brilliant minds)

I was feeling really light-headed and leaned over to put my head between my legs, which popped the blisters on the left side - my shirt and pants were soaked. It was gross. So now I was fevered, lightheaded and nauseated.

A nice resident interviewed me and then said her supervisor would take a look. No one took my temperature, took blood, nothing. At 11am, I was discharged and told to go to my dermatologist and get a biopsy that it looked 'vascular'.  I asked if that explained the fever and the lightheadedness. She shrugged and said they were really busy.

So if I wake up dead tomorrow from this, someone can take this to a medical malpractice atty and sue the hospital so that my cats will be taken care of in high style...

I showed the doc at one of my medical research places my blisters and she totally freaked out. Said it looked like staph and it was spreading and I needed to get to the ER asap and get it cultured.

I had a counseling appt by the hospital, so I hit that first. (I'll post on that later). Then I went to the ER. Sat for three hours before I was seen by anyone. The first nurse was dumbfounded. Had a second nurse come in. They'd never seen anything like it. So I'm marked "Level 2" and sent to "THE RED ZONE" (whatever that means).

There was a woman (about the size of a city bus) that had been hit by a city bus. When the medical staff was around, she moaned and cried about how awful the pain on her calf was. When the medical staff was gone, she and her mother were talking about how they were going to get a boatload of money from the city. And she was hopping up out of the chair to grab her daughter's popcorn and soda from.

So, at hour 7 of my wait. (Glad to know I'm not dying or anything), nurse #3 comes in. She's the senior nurse. She looks at the blisters and says "you've just burnt yourself and you don't remember." I advised her that most burn blisters don't spread over your body overnight and get worse and have red streaks growing in length from them.

She said "you're PACe'd". (Like I'm supposed to know what that means?) I told her that my doctor said the blisters needed to be cultured for staph infection.

She said 'we're too busy for that right now. Go sit down. I'll take a look at it in another 6 hours and decide if it needs a culture." I told her that I needed to lay down immediately and I could not last another 6 hours standing up (they were out of seats - mostly family members waiting).

BTW, if someone is in the ER, is it REALLY necessary to bring 12+ members of your family for a hairline fracture of your foot?

So, I said that I was going home. And you see why I love going to the hospital?

Had another dream about Jen last night. Woke up exhausted - fortunately, didn't have to do anything today, so I didn't. Didn't even walk outside to get the mail.

Discovered my torso is covered in large blisters - this is kinda gross so if you haven't eaten your breakfast yet, consider yourself warned. They are the size of a hard-boiled egg if you cut it vertically (they are HUGE!). And filled with yellow fluid (GROSS!). And they hurt like a MF'r. Not running a fever and don't seem to be having any other symptoms. Called the doc and she can't see me until Friday. And I was advised not to accidentally puncture any of the blisters. I've had ice packs on them all day to try to minimize the pain and maybe reduce the fluid.

It's not chicken pox or shingles and I haven't been working out in the yard in the past week - so it's not something I picked up there. No new chemicals/medications introduced. I've been assured it's not the Ebola Virus. (kidding)

Counseling appt tomorrow. Will be a challenge coming up with something non-clingy to wear to not pop these suckers. Jealous?

My  day started out with the absolute worst news possible - my friend Jen's death. Still haven't been able to find out details about who killed her, etc. I'd like to know if she has a gravesite - I'd like to visit it and say my goodbyes. At least I will write her a letter. I blame myself that I should have forgiven her and had her come to Atlanta - watched over her and helped her get her life straightend up.

And it brings to light this whole Bryon thing. Bryon, like Jen, hurt me incredibly. I forgave her. I should have not let it ruin our history. Jen doubted me and wouldn't speak to me for six months because of it - and offered no explanation - just like Bryon did. It makes me wonder if this is some sort of symbol. But it is out of my hands completely. The forgiving is for me to bestow upon Bryon. Could I ever forgive him? I don't know. That's jumping ahead of myself.

The past couple of postings ranting about Bryon were necessary for me. As I've come out of my depression, I've moved out of the utter numbness to experiencing emotions. Haven't been in touch with much other than feeling overwhelmed, abandoned, victimized and alone. I was ANGRY that Bryon would post what he did on Brogonzo's website and not honor our friendship in the least by coming to me. I wanted an explanation. I was hurt and confused. He refused to even acknowledge it. A simple reply explaining that he had found out x and y and therefore didn't want to continue our friendship, I could have dealt with. But one thing that drives me bonkers is not knowing. Complete silence - non-response - no explanation - zilch. Made me doubt myself, wonder what the heck I could have done, made me go into even deeper depression and anxiety.

My therapist last week discussed why I had posted the detailed account of my rape. I told her it was cathartic in a way and I'd never told anyone about it - I'd said I'd been drugged and raped but no one really asked details and I'd never been able to share my story. She asked how I felt afterwards - I said I felt like I had gained a part of myself back.

So, after detailing  in our session last week what had transpired with Bryon - the emails, the sudden silence, the blog posting - she was as befuddled as I was. But due to the 'no contact request', I was going to have to find closure on this on my own. I relied on handy old Tblog to tell my story, the fairy tale of how I met this gallant guy with a passion for diving like my own, how he was such a gentleman, how his flirting made me blush and how protective he was of me and how it made me feel. He confused me inside. I knew I loved him dearly as a friend and trusted him without question. (Something I cannot say about many people) Then I got into the ugly stuff - where I feel that he betrayed our friendship. I was hurt deeply and even more confused - why the hell wouldn't he tell me what was going on? I wondered if he had gone back to the psycho woman that was screening his calls. I wondered if he had been injured - because someone had commented on my blog that Bryon had been seriously injured several months ago. I worried because I cared.

In response, Bryon posted a commentary on his own blog - which he's subsequently deleted. (although I did save it for posterity) He claims that I 'demanded' to find out what he had uncovered. (If you were as frustrated as I was, wouldn't you want to know what would make someone end a friendship and say something so hurtful?) His 'profiler' claims I'm suffering from a 'severe mental illness' and suggested I'm unstable. I read the entire posting to my therapist who laughed and said this profiler needs to get a grip - that I was one of the strongest, most stable and compassionate people she had ever encountered and she admired me. I was diagnosed with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder which is common for rape victims (not false claims) and was treated for more than 12 weeks. I think if this professional had a better understanding of the situation, he'd recant his claims.

I don't care what Bryon would ever write about me, I would NEVER wish any ill harm for him. It's not in my nature. If Bryon knew me at all, he'd know that. And to those of you that are threatening him - stop it - I've NEVER condoned violence and I do not want you to act out on him in my name or in my cause.

Because I feel like I've aired my grievances and sought my own closure and because of the significance of Jen's murder and our friendship that was destroyed with a similar parallel to the demise of my friendship with Bryon, I've deleted the previous blogs about Bryon. I've gotten it out of my system. Them remaining doesn't benefit me any further. It's a gesture, an olive branch to him. I won't deny that I'm still VERY hurt by how he's handled things over the past 6 months, but it's an opportunity for him to re-evaluate things. If there are questions he has, he should bring them to me - just like I attempted to do with him.

Things happen for a reason and there are lessons to be learned about this. I was sitting in the steam room crying over the news I got about Jen. And it hit me - the similarities of the demise of my friendship with Jen and the demise of my friendship with Bryon. As much as I wish that I could go back and mend my relationship with Jen, I cannot. So I'm doing this in memory of her.

I think one lesson I need to learn from this is forgiveness - because whenever someone has 'betrayed' me, I've axed them, no working things out - just get out and go on. This is also a situation that is beyond my control. I've wanted to kick myself time and time again over the past months because despite what has gone on, a part of me will always love Bryon.

On the subject of highs, I cannot go into details, but today, I was heard. And I was believed. And it felt really good. Before I walked into the meeting, I asked the three friends I've lost in the past 3 years for their strength and support - adding Jen to that list. And I think they were with me. 

I've been having dreams about my friend Jen for the past several weeks and couldn't get her off my mind. Jen was known by many of you as 'the bipolar stripper'. She stopped communication with me two years ago because her sociopathic cheating husband had told her that I was having an affair with him. And she believed him, so she refused my calls for months and didn't respond to my letters for months. (Theme familiar from some recent drama involving someone else in my life, eh?)

Then out of the blue, she calls me and tells me that was the reason why she wasn't talking to me.  I laughed - that she would seriously believe that idiot over our years of friendship and proven record of loyalty.

 Yesterday, I called Jen's house. Left a voicemail simply saying that Jen had been on my mind a lot lately and I was calling to see how she was doing.

 This morning, I got a call from her father, who I have had a lot of conversations with during the time that she wasn't talking to me because he was as baffled as I was as to why she wouldn't talk to me.

He told me Jen died on February 25, 2006. That someone killed her. And that was probably her reaching out to me. He was visibly (and justifiably) upset so I didn't ask for more details. I figured I could find them online. He did say that the person responsible had been caught. He said that he was terribly sorry he hadn't contacted me earlier but they didn't have my phone number.

I feel horrible that Jen and I were not able to patch things up. I was expecting to hear that she had killed herself because she would get into those deep dark depressions. When she was doing well, she was such a loving spirit. She broke my heart with her doubting of me vs. her 'husband' when I needed her support. I hope she's forgiven me for telling her that I forgave her, but that I couldn't be her friend anymore because in my heart, she's always been there.