It's hard to believe the last post I wrote was called "The New Normal". I was referring to my need to be at home and feel normal in the midst of so much stress. Little did I know then what I know now.
About a day or so after that post, I was diagnosed with pneumonia. I am fine now, better than ever in fact because I quit smoking (thanks pneumonia) but having to go to the emergency room in New York City was one of my worst fears confirmed. I was always proud to say that after so many years here, leaving and coming back, I never had to go to an ER in the city. And now I know why I didn't want to. Beth Israel at 18th and 2nd is absolutely from the middle ages- even with insurance I felt like I was in a third rate hospital- dirty, no toilet papers in the bathrooms, drug addicts begging for Dilaudid next to me- doctors who were cursing and generally looked sleep deprived and totally over it. To be honest, my attendants were very nice to me, but I was there for 7 hours, in pain in my ribs and back, and finally went home with a chest xray that showed pneumonia, armed with some Oxycontin for the pain and a very strong antibiotic.
I planned to write a post about how New York is one of the greatest equalizers of people that there is- it is beyond a level playing field even though some of the richest people in our country live here, the biggest industries are here, the trends are set here. It matters not, any of this, because all of us take the subway, all of us walk the same streets, breathe the same here, and squeeze in to the same subways. All of us need a doctor from time to time, so all of us- regardless, have to rely on the city to take care of us and get us where we need to go. At times, the subway system feels like it's held together by thread, and the chaos of city living has lately made me wonder how anybody can think this city "works". And this, before this week and the worst storm of our lives.
If New York is a place where we all have to survive together, there's been no bigger test than Sandy. I sat in my apartment in Brooklyn, listening to what sounded like the end of the world, and wondered why I was so absolutely terrified, in a way I have never been before. I have been through 9/11, the blackout, and numerous big hurricanes in Miami. Why was this so different? Growing up in the Northeast, it's true that "hurricane preparedness" was nowhere near our vernacular. This is not a language we speak up here, and the news were preparing us for the worst and guess what? It was the worst. As I listened to those winds and felt my heart enter my throat, I knew I was feeling this way because I was very in tune with the great devastation around me. For better or for worse, there is no city I am more in tune with than New York- for good, for bad, for celebration, for tragedy. For every transformer that blew and light that went out, I felt it. Somehow, we in Brooklyn, in my part of Brooklyn and many others, dodged a bullet. That in itself feels weird, somehow guilt producing- that so many around us have been so fucked by this storm while we sit with heat, electricity, and internet makes me feel like thanking G-d, but also wondering why and how we were spared.
I wrote that post over a week ago to speak to how exhausted I was feeling, how fatigued, how over it all I was. I was forced to lay in bed all of last week, and now this happened to further cripple any nerves I had gained back from a mandatory rest. This is a horrible thing to say but maybe you can help me work it out- being in New York for 9/11 made me feel so proud, so grateful to be a New Yorker. I'm sad to admit that I'm not feeling that way now, because I'm not sure at this point in my life I am equipped to deal with such insanity, and though it's only been a few days, it feels like a lifetime.
I know I am not one of the people who lost a home, a relative, or anything else from this storm. But what I did lose was a little faith- how are we to come back from this? When will the sirens stop? When will Manhattan come back from this and how will all the surrounding communities around the city survive? With 9/11, there was a feeling, a very real feeling, of having to defeat this enemy, this "evil doer" who sought to destroy us and our way of life. But who are we fighting now? We can't fight mother nature. We can't fight the weather. All we can do, I suppose, is rebuild, smarter. Better. You know I love this city- more than anything. But even before the storm, its energy and chaos was beginning to suck me dry, I found myself wanting to stay in Brooklyn and not go into the city- Manhattan's insanity was feeling like way too much of late. This city is such a hard place to live- it's expensive, competitive, crowded, intense. It breeds anxiety and claustrophobia. But it also gives back so much in terms of inspiration, intelligence, and tolerance. I'm very much trying to get my pride on, to know we, as New Yorkers will get through this, but I'm not sure how you fight an adversary as big as weather. Do we come to accept this, our "new normal" of superstorms and surges and power outages? Will living on the water lose all of its appeal? Can the Jersey shore ever retain its summer go to status? I sure do hope so. Right now, the energy of this storm and its ensuing loss and sadness and surrealism is almost too much to take. I wanted to share because I'm feeling very lost, and I'm one of the lucky ones.
And that's what's up this I love New York but I'm tired of bad shit happening here (and everywhere else) kind of Thursday in the 718. Prayers to friends and strangers alike. XO