Here I am in Portland, Oregon — Day 15.
It has been the most miserable 15 days I’ve had in I don’t know how long.
I got here, and things seemed good. I was very sad to leave Philadelphia, but I wanted a change. I had saved my money. I quit my job. I threw out most of my possessions. I was not going to be complacent. I was going to hit the refresh button on my life. I was ready and excited to start over.
I got here Jan 12. My childhood friend, also just 4 months into her stay in Portland, met me at the door to her studio apartment.
We got food and talked a lot, and I crashed early out of pure exhaustion.
I spent the entire next week looking for apartments. Looking for jobs a little too, but mostly looking for apartments. I was staying in my friend’s tiny studio and sharing a futon with her. Obviously there was no privacy. She was stealing internet from her neighbors.
In addition, I was waking up before the break of dawn every day- usually 6 or 6:30am, since I am still stuck on EST. I would lay on the futon awake and bored until she woke up as well. I didn’t want to disturb her sleep. I needed my own space – and fast.
And so my first week I looked at some apartments. Nothing promising. Weird people. Expensive rent. A place was too far away. I started looking at studios. A lot of them smelled like dirty hippies. Another was smaller than my last bedroom. Some were just completely overpriced.
I started getting sick, so I bought some cold medicine and tea. I kept getting worse. My first weekend I was too sick to do anything fun. My friend and I caught a movie, I ate a lot of soup, drank more tea and kept reading.
I lost my voice on Sunday. It hurt to talk.
My friend found out that she could get out of her lease. She and I looked at a few places and found perfection. We filled out the application that day. We were beyond excited for mountain views from the bedrooms, a balcony, and a spacious kitchen plus some very giant closets.
I spent the rest of the week trying to recover from my cold and regain my oddly disappearing voice. I sat in the coffee shop searching for jobs, blowing my nose, and drinking plenty of hot tea.
Even though I was still waking up before the sun rose, life felt more hopeful. It glowed. My friend and I bought a ton of apartment stuff at Ikea. For the most part I was feeling better, although my throat still hurt. I was aggressively applying for jobs. It felt good.
Saturday we got our Uhaul van from the SE Portland, and moved into the new place. All day my throat hurt, and swallowing was awful. I took a lot of ibuprofen and just kept going.
The next day I was in even more pain. I woke up super early and called my doctor’s office in Philly to see if they could prescribe anything. They said to go to a clinic in Portland. So I spent the whole day counting down until Monday morning. I was going to visit the clinic a few blocks away. I figured I only needed some antibiotics.
My throat was really swollen. When my friend looked at it she literally ran away from me. I overdosed on ibuprofen all day and took a lot of breaks in between building my dresser, hoping my throat would miraculously feel better once I had that damn thing constructed.
I went to bed Sunday night at 11. I took four ibuprofen before I went to sleep.
I woke up at 1:30 in a ton of pain. I took four more ibuprofen. By 2:30 I think I actually felt worse. I laid in my new bed and cried.
Since my mom goes to work very early, I called her. She is up and getting ready for work at 5:30 am EST (aka 2:30 am PST).
I was crying. I told her about how much pain I was in, how much ibuprofen I’ve taken, and how swollen my throat is. She told me to go to the emergency room. I reminded her that I have not yet bought health insurance. An ER visit would be super expensive, and I don’t even have a job yet.
She tells me to stop worrying about money and go – that she and my dad will help if I need help. Just go.
So I call a cab and put on clothing. I get to the ER around 3 am. I was crying all through my check in.
The doctor that saw me looked at my throat and said, “Oh my!”
She told me there was an abscess in my tonsil that would have to be drained.
She put me on an IV. I got morphine first. Then a steroid to help the swelling go down. Then fluids. They drew blood out of the other arm. I slept a little, but the morphine wasn’t helping a whole lot.
Around 7 am, the ear-nose-throat doctor came in.
They brought me to another room, and he looked at my throat. He looked at me like he felt sorry for me. He told me what they were going to do and that it would probably be relatively painful. When he told me about the procedure I freaked out a little and started crying again. It took me a minute to compose myself. I was pretty stressed already.
First he took a needle and put Novocain in and around my right tonsil. Then he took another needle and poked around my tonsil until he found where the abscess was. It didn’t hurt too much until he found it.
Then he took a scalpel and cut a hole where the abscess was. This also didn’t hurt too much.
But then he went in with forceps. I could hear and feel my flesh being crunched and clipped at. There were tears running down my face. And when he got to the actual abscess, I cried out a little because it hurt so much. Many more tears flowed.
And then my mouth was full of blood and pus. I spit and drooled for awhile. They gave me another shot of morphine, which did very little for me. The doctor told me I took the whole thing a lot better than most people. He gave me his, card and asked that I follow up with him Thursday.
They gave me some antibiotics and I cried for a half hour while they dripped in to my IV.
All I could think was, “What the fuck am I doing here? Why did I quit my job with health insurance, my perfectly wonderful life, and everything to come here? Why am I 3000 miles away crying in a hospital by myself” I felt so alone and in so much pain. I just wanted my mom or a friend to hold my hand or hug me and make me feel better.
I was discharged by 8:30 am. They gave me 2 prescriptions – one antibiotic and one for pain – both in liquid form. They cost me $80.
The pain is supposed to subside 2 days after the procedure.
I called my mom and friend and let them know what happened. I bought popsicles. I took both medicines and crashed. The pain in my throat was pretty bad. My mouth was still oozing pus and blood. Noodles in soup were too big to swallow. I slept horribly.
I woke up this morning still hurting. I’m feeling a little better this evening. Hopefully recovery is in the near future.
Still, this morning I found myself crying about how hopeless my life has felt since I arrived in Portland. I’ve been so sick I haven’t even been able to go out and apply for retail and restaurant jobs. And unemployment is up to 9% in this city. I have a lot of competition. I have some money, but not enough to last too much longer without a paycheck.
I’m bound to find something at least part time soon, but I need to buy insurance. I need to do a lot.
So, I took yesterday, today and tomorrow and trying to actually recover. I will continue the job hunt soon, but for now I just kind of need a little break. I’m such a mess. I just feel like the world is closing in. I find myself crying randomly. I guess I’m kind of traumatized.
My younger sister called me tonight after she talked to my mom. We talked. I cried. And she said, “You know, if you aren’t growing, you’re dying.”
She’s right. Moving to Portland was the right decision. I won’t regret it. It’s just off to a rocky start.
~ Jessica
Twitter: somuchtosay
