What are you doing New Year’s Eve?

That’s the title of the old song. Turns out, in my case, not a lot.

My husband, Enrique, got sick during our trip to Paris. At first, I thought it was too much rich French food. A lot of pain. Then, I thought kidney stone because the pain was in his belly in one place.

The doctor came. Told him to get to the hospital. We did. We had always been told that if you get sick here, go to the American Hospital. It’s private. That means you pay. But… the care is good.

Turns out, it’s his appendix. He’s going to be fine, but this really changed the trip. Our friend Vanessa said, “Leave it to Enrique to be so fancy to have an appendicitis attack in Paris and get it removed there.” I needed that laugh. And… it’s true.

So here we are. He’s in the hospital. I’m in the apartment. With him as much as he wants me to be. He’s like me. When he gets sick, he wants to be alone.

What to do? I have played tourist. A lot. Just walked. Got lost twice in one day. But… just once that it was so bad I needed Uber to rescue me. How I got that far off track I’ll never know. Even with Google maps, I got lost.

Confession. I have no sense of direction. To me, north is up. South is down. East is left. West is right. Kinda like “The Brox is up and the Battery’ s down.” I still can only tell my right hand from the writing callus on my middle finger.

What else have I done? Laundry. When I stress I do laundry.

And I watched a couple of movies. “Priscilla.” Didn’t love it, but Jacob Elordi played a good young Elvis. Older… not so much.

Also watched “Killers of the Flower Moon.” It did eat up a lot of time. 3-1/2 hours. But… Scorsese, DiCaprio and DeNiro… what could be wrong? Nothing. It’s perfect. Lily Gladstone steals it. I watched it in stages.

And “Saltburn.” Whew! Now, that was a ride and a half. Not for the faint of heart.

Which brings me to New Year’s Eve. What am I doing? Nothing. Enrique loves New Year’s Eve. I kinda don’t. He will be getting through it in the hospital. I’ll be with him for a time and back in this apartment.

Don’t worry about me. It’s just New Year’s Eve. Tell 2023 to go to hell. Let’s wipe the slate clean and start over. I didn’t love this year, but it’s life. You accept it… deal with it… and move on. I’m luckier than most. Great job. Great country. Great friends.

Our friend Pierre said this of it all. “In a few months, this will be a bad memory. In a few years, we will have a good laugh.” I like that.

What are you doing New Year’s Eve? I hope something wonderful. I’m going to be quiet and grateful. It’s just appendicitis.

Happy New Year.