You have got to be kiddin' me

So Hollywood broke her neck. And I'm not even joking. But everyone thought we were. This is serious stuff people. Granted, the girls and I joke A LOT. And we joke about oh-so-inappropriate things. Yeah..there's that. But this one? This one is TRUE. Hollywood broke her freakin' neck.

Tuesday night, and I wake up like a shot. Sweat pours down my face and for a moment I'm late for class, or work, or....wait... No. It's midnight. I'm not late. I'm early. And there's a quick pull of fear in my belly. So I breathe deep and lay down. And I hear a gentle knock on my door. It's Sunshine.

"Tiff, can I come in? I need to talk to you."

She's calm. Too calm for midnight. Too calm for the fear I already feel.

She comes in. Her orange phone like a beacon light.

"Um, Something's wrong with Holly. I think she broke her neck."

(so for a minute the world stops turning, and all air ceases to move, and the only thing I can do is nothing)

"WHAT??????????????"

We didn't have a lot of information. Hollywood lives in Pennsylvania. We are here in Maryland. 2 1/2 hours away from our crazy broken necked friend. We'll wait for more information. So we wait. And we try to rest. And we don't know how bad it is.

In the morning we hop in the car and make our 85 mile an hour way to Abington hospital in Pennsylvania. On the way up we muse how she got herself in this predicament. Evidently she challenged the bottom of a shallow swimming pool, and the pool won.

At the hospital, we can't find parking. "What the fuck is wrong with Pennsylvania?"
We finally do. Then we find the ER. But she's not there. She's not in her room.

They are sweeping up her room.

"We're not sure if she's coming back."

(um, pardon me. but if you see two panicked girls, looking for their friend who broke her neck, please choose your words more wisely)

She was moved to a private room, one floor up. Sweet jesus. Sweet mercy. Thank you.

And we find her. I kiss her forehead and all she can do is grit her teeth and wince in pain.

It is that bad.

Hollywood, though, is the type of person that cultivates love and laughter anywhere she goes. She's surrounded by people who love her. And not that weird surface love either, the kind that ducks, and runs and is only around when it's convenient. No, she's got the real deal. And it's everywhere. And my God, she didn't have to break her neck for us to prove how much we love her. It's always there.

And as we always do, we try to make the best of a really scary, really big situation. We laugh, and make horribly tasteless jokes. Hollywood teases the nurses. We write down the funny things she says through her morphine haze. We talk about days past. We wonder why "Hot Doctor" is wearing those ugly shoes. We watch "Dennis the Menace" and Hollywood knows it by heart. (Did I tell you she has the soul of an 8 year old?)

She's been flat on her back now for 15 hours. She is in agonizing pain. I don't know how to comfort her other than to wet the cloth on her forehead. To hold her hand and tell her to squeeze when the pain screams.

Sunshine is a hive of activity. She's the information point. She's texting, and calling, and facebooking. She's on damage control. But the rumors spread anyway. And boy, it's amazing what people think up.

I'll take this time to tell you that sleeping, eating, and showering (along with the copious consumption of booze) are not permitted in hospitals. I swear. It's like they set up hospitals just for the sick people! How rude. But I digress.

Finally, on Friday Hollywood's husband arrived to take care of her. He's in the Army and had flown out to Texas the week before. He's a doll, and boy does he love that girl. I tell ya.

I came home late Thursday night. But I didn't want to. (that's another story). And I dreamed of her that night because I worry. And I'm still worried. But ya know what?
She's not dead. She's so goddamn lucky.