After an Esfand burning, a million hugs, juicy kisses and lots of doset darams / I love you's, I took a tour of the home that my husband once spent much of his childhood in and where some of his best memories are.
Finally seeing everything really made Mo's childhood stories come together.
But it hit hard - aghajoon wasn't there in his usual seated position. I know that for Mo, this was rough. I was so grateful that I was able to be there and be supportive.
We spent the morning looking at each other, chatting, hugging, eating fruit and just totally blissed out that we were finally here together. Later in the afternoon, I felt totally nauseous. I went upstairs and laid down and the next thing I know I'm puking into a plastic bag that had a hole in it. Then, I started to cry and totally panic. I literally just arrived and puked not only all over myself but all over mamanjoons bed. I felt sooooo sick. I was sooooo anxious that I couldn't stop shaking. We decided to go to the hospital to at least get an IV. Last year around the same time I spent time in the hospital for this horrible stomach bug I had and I had been severely dehydrated so I was definitely concerned about that. Mo and his two uncles drove me to the hospital. You walk into the hospital, right into the doctor's office, tell him your symptoms and they write stuff on a piece of paper. This doctor wasn't bad, but it was Friday night and he wasn't very pleased to be there. The orders? IV with some vitamins. Mo explained that the men's and women's areas are separate in the hospital and that I might have to be without him. He assured me he'd explain everything to them and not to worry. Luckily, the nurses at the front desk saw how terrified and sick I was and let me go over into a private section in the men's area so that Mo and his uncles could be around me. I was relieved. The nurses were so nice, so curious about Am-rika and were truly concerned about me. After all, I was the first American they had ever met. Only bad thing about this hospital? It was like 100 years old and the bathroom situation WAS.NOT.PLEASANT. After a couple of hours, I still felt nauseous but with a new found hope that I just needed some sleep and I'd be all better. We left the hospital and paid the bill. How much? $10. Shab Bekheir mamanjoon. Doset daram / Good night mamanjoon. I love you. |