I can't remember if it was my father or my friend's father that made a very bold statement:

"As you go through life you will realize that the number of people you can truly rely on can be counted on one hand --- minus the pinky and the thumb."

The statement I thought was rather cynical but I am starting to realize how true it is.

Not to sound self righteous but I would like to think of myself as one of those three fingers on everyones hand. Even the ones that don't seem to return the favor. Because of that, I go through life being let down more often than not. I want to change and be as cold and selfish as some of the people I have come across during the course of my lifetime but I just can't. When I am in need I find some sort of way to help out. Even if I can't personally, I try to find someone else who can help in my absence.

Two weeks ago a girl I used to sorta date who lives around the corner from me called me up out of the blue at 11:30pm. I thought maybe she was returning a message I left for her several weeks before but that wasnt the case. She sounded a bit distraught.

Turns out she was in a cab with no money and the cab driver was freaking her out with murderous banter. So, without question or hesitation, I hopped out of bed, put on some clothes didnt even grab an umbrella for the torrential downpour that was going on outside. I just wanted to meet her at her apartment so I can get money to her cab driver and make sure she was home safe. We went out for tea, caught up, she hugged me and thanked me and paid me back. She even asked if I wanted to come upstairs to hang some more but I decided to go back to my apartment.

A couple of weeks later I asked if she wouldn't mind doing a favor for me since she lives and works in the neighborhood. Real simple. Pick me up at the hospital after my Colonoscopy exam. I will be drugged and they legally can't release me without an escort. Not to be tit for tat, I did you a favor now you do me one - but I thought the favor I asked of her would be a no brainer.

At first I thought the test was from 2-3pm at New York Hospital which is right down the street from us. Super convenient. She said she would be delighted to be there for me and would rearrange her schedule to come and pick me up. Very sweet! The day before the exam I find out the procedure is at Lennox Hill Hospital which is several blocks away and it was from 3-4pm. I notify her and she says she doesn't think she can do it because she has way too many things lined up. One of them being her acting class which I know is very precious to her. Than she said to call her anyway and we'll figure something out. Very sweet again.

I do have a ton of friends, one lovely girl, Neva, who was willing to cut out of work down by the fashion district and catch a cab all the way up to the Upper East Side to make sure I get home o.k. and then head back to work. The offer was above and beyond and I will never forget her for that. I just didnt think what would be necessary since my friend was already in the neighborhood.

Anyway, my friend said she'd call me at dinner time to work out logistics for my Wednesday exam. No call. Surprise. So I called her at 9:30pm to go over the Ifs, Ands, and Buts of the day and what to do, who to call and how she can contact me. Couldnt get a hold of her. But the morning of the exam she sends an email saying saying, "Phone died. See you @4."

I am sure somewhere between the lines there was a "Good Luck, hope it goes well" but I guess I had to really look between the lines. Maybe under a decoder spy light. In her defense, she was probably in a super rush and simply didn't realize the mental agony I go through before these tests.

I get to the hospital and have to get naked and put on those lovely fashionable hospital gowns and sit in a FREEZING cold waiting room. Alone. I find out that the patient before me was late so my exam won't even begin until 3:45. This will now make my friend late to her class, or rehearsal or wherever it was she had to be.

So instead of being worried about myself and the procedure which always poses some sort of risk (last time my father had it done, the scope perforated his intestine and he wound up in the hospital for 2 weeks), I was worried about her. Sending her texts of exactly where I was, leaving her messages of the number on the floor where my exam was taking place and instructions if she gets there and I am late and she has to go - to leave a message with one of the nurses. Her phone was dead so I couldnt contact her. Nor was there any effort (that I know of) on her part to contact me. My mind and emotions wandered to a place of anger. But then I started to feel guilty again for feeling this way. In fact all I could think was how angry she will be at me for asking her to do me this favor and how I was going to make her late her appointment. Guilty. Why? I dont know. Maybe I was just being a martyr. I know I've been late for class, or rehearsal or whatever. But I still felt bad. I know how precious these classes are to her.

I checked the waiting room one more time at 3:45pm to see if she happened to have been in the waiting room. Maybe she came a little early. Anyway, no one was there. I had to put my phone away before being escorted down a long corridor and into the room. As I am walking down the hall with a nurses aide on either side of me, I can hear a sergeant's voice in my head shouting "Asshole Walking!" and I chuckle to myself.

The procedure room is even colder than the waiting room. All white. So cold. So sterile. Filled with machinery emitting a constant low humming drone. Did I mention it was cold. And sterile. The anesthesiologist and nurses are starting the IV. An oxygen tube is placed up my nose. They remove my gowns. I am lying on a gurney facing the florescent lights hanging from the stark white ceiling. Naked (with a blanket covering me). I am being poked and prodded. Before the drug drip is started I had to sign papers claiming I am aware of the risks involved. I sign. I am told to roll over to my side as the lights dim. Maybe I am just a big ol pussy but it was very emotional. So sad. So lonely in this room. Knowing nobody is out in the waiting room. My parents didn't even know I was having this done. Actually I told them a while ago but they forgot. But I easily forget birthdays and anniversaries so I dont fault them at all. I almost start to cry. I can feel the lump in my throat. Self pity starts to overcome me and spread like a deadly virus. Part of me was so sad that I felt that I almost wouldnt mind if I didnt wake up. I know thats a bit dramatic or melodramatic but hey, this was how I felt at that moment. Didnt care about anyone or anything. Just wanted to go under peacefully and leave everyone and everything behind. I pretended I was an inmate in the execution chamber. Wondering if there really was an afterlife. What death was going to feel like. If anything.

I was a mere a specimen on a table in a lab. Tubes coming out of nearly every oraphus. The drug starts to kick in. My emotions were the only thing that made me feel human. And every possible emotion hit me almost simultaneously. anger, rage, sadness, euphoria, envy, amusement - heck, I even laughed as I started to go under. I was happy to be leaving consciousness...

The exam ends. I finally wake up in recovery. My first thought was not about myself or the exam but about my friend. Nobody heard from her, nobody stopped by for me. I asked everyone one who passed by if someone left a message. Anyone for Todd Wall??

"No. Sorry." They replied. "No one."

So I sat there in recovery with the other sick patients for 2 hours. That sucked.

The doctor came in and said he took a couple of biopsies but that according to what he was able to see, everything looked good. I was told I had to wait another hour before I could leave but I snuck out. I was so hurt, depressed, tired, angry, and antsy (from the tons of drugs they gave me).

I stumble home. Reading all the wonderful texts from a couple my true friends wishing me well, asking to call them when I am able. Rob, Alex, Neva, - Thank you.

I fell asleep when I got home and later in the night my friend called right before she has to go into the subway to see if I made it home o.k. I did. Thanks.

She said she called the hospital and they told her that I wouldnt be ready to be released until 5:30pm. What would have eased my mind is if she just thought to leave a message for me somehow. But she didnt.

Did I expect her to coddle me the whole day and night? No. Not at all. I didnt even want her to miss any part of her scheduled activities on the count of me. And I made that clear to her as well. So what did I expect? Maybe a little something more than just an email saying, "Phone died. See u @4."

This may seem harsh and I have no idea what was going through her mind and there are two sides to every story - but as far as I could tell, and based on my experience of the situation she didnt understand the scope of what I was going through nor did she seem to care...much.

Just to make it clear. I cant read minds so this is only a very broad and very negative speculation. She did call the next day to see how I was doing. Maybe this was all I should have and could have expected. After all who are we to each other...really.

The truth of the matter is we are no longer close. We rarely talk except when we run into each other. So she really was under no obligation whatsoever to me nor I to her and because of this I should not have been affected so much by this experience.

But I was.

The reason being is that I know what I would have done if the same situation was reversed and she was the one that needed me. I most likely would have made a call to inform the powers that be that I would be a little late because I am helping out a friend. And if she fought me on this, I would have insisted. But thats just me. Maybe I care about the wrong people. Or rather, the people that are simply wrong for me. Which will bring me to my next blog Ode to my Ex.

There are certain types of people in each of our lives that are just very rare as I am learning. These are the people that understand that doing favors for friends means having to sacrifice something with little or no hesitation. A favor thats done because its simply convenient is more like a nice gesture in disguise.

If someone doesnt seem to find you valuable enough to make any small sacrifices to help you out when it is needed - well - even though they may still be considered a friend - they certainly can't be counted as one of those precious fingers on that one precious hand.