With 30 minutes to go, I got up, bought some breath strips - Altoids and Listerine & a bottle of water to keep me awake.
Because of my destination, I was upgraded to business class and had a decent amount of leg room. I plugged my headphones in, queued up some hypnosis/sleep assistance music (no, Lynne, not jazz), only to hear a baby cry out two seats behind me. I could just picture tossing the kid off the train. Yes, I know I'm evil. That's what happens when I'm deprived of sleep. I was only able to sleep for half of the 4 hour trip. I woke up in Albany, and just relaxed for the last 40 minutes.
It's grey and rainy here in Bumblefuck, and it looks like it'll be that way all week. Dammit, I'd like some SUN while on vacation. Whenever I come up here, the weather's crappy.
Mom picked me up, and we went grocery shopping; I must have spent over $100 on food, mostly veggie crap, so I didn't have to make extra trips. Getting my ass to the grocery store (without a car or drivers' license) would take at least 40 minutes.
We got home, I put my crap away, played with Tasha (DOGGIE! - a black lab/rotwieler mix)
and went to bed around 1:30. At 2, my parents went to visit grandma & Aunt Celeste. I slept (o glorious sleep) till 7 when my sister called. I FUCKING HATE THAT PHONE. I let the machine pick up, fed Tasha, fed myself, read the paper, and started reading Crisis.
Parents came home by 8, I kept reading until 11. Watched Oprah's Minge & Gary hold Towlie hostage (that's a South Park reference for those who don't/can't watch), and went to bed. Woke up at 6:30 to get ready for a long day at the hospital.
We arrived at 8 am. They finally called Dad in at 9 to get him prepped.
This waiting room sucks. Cell phones aren't allowed in the hospital at all, so I had to write all this out in a small notebook Mom was carrying.
There's a big older guy in here. His gut protruding, breathing loudly through his mouth, and practically gargling his coffee instead of drinking it.
My 8th grade history teacher is here. He goes to church with my Mom. He hasn't recognized me, and I'm more than okay with that.
I just met my sister-in-law for the first time. She's having some gastro reflux whatever test. Her Shit-Listed brother nearly sliced his fingers off a couple weeks ago. They've been stitched back on but one of his finger nails is gone. While Karma may be a bitch, but I wouldn't wish that on him. Like I've said before, an apology would be a nice start.
It's 9:50 and they still haven't called us in. The operation should start soon. I just want to know what's going on so I can cut off the rest of the world for a while; there are Infinite Earths whose fate demand my attention!
And just as I wrote that bit, they called us in. Dad has all sorts of tubes plugged in and seems fine. The anesthesiologist looks like Lynne's dad, only taller. They're giving him a spinal tap and a nerve block for the operation, and then a patient-controlled morphine drip afterwards. The surgeon walks in to take Dad to the OR. They have the technology, they are rebuilding him...
Resistance is futile.
The operation started a little after 10, and ended a little before noon. They only had to do a partial replacement (right leg), so recovery time will be halved. Dad will come home Wednesday morning.
Mom is relieved. Between this, her sister, her mom, and her crazy boss, she's just about had it.
Oh, here's a hint that I hope everyone takes to heart:
If your ankle is thicker than my neck...If the roll of fat flows over the shoe, maybe it's time to go outside for a walk.
Just maybe.
*shudder*
Day 4: Wednesday
I woke up at 11 AM to:
a) the sun, finally!
b) Dad coming home thanks to Aunt Celeste
c) the beginning of the flu
d) all of the above.
It's a cool, breezy 58 degrees, but there ain't a cloud in the sky for the first time in days.
The skin on Dad's knee looks like a zipper. Staples & stitches. It looks really fucked up.
If Dad was a villain in the Tick, his alter-ego would be Zipper-Knee!
(I've cracked up!)
My sinuses are so damned clogged.
Friday at 1 AM, my 100-degree fever broke. After getting a decent-night's sleep and cleaning up, I spent an hour or two with my aunt and grandmother. Grandma keeps telling me to look up my 3rd cousin, a 90-something guy I've never met who apparently still lives in the area. What the hell am I supposed to say? "Hi, you don't know me, and you probably don't even remember my grandfather, but I thought it'd be cool to sit through a half hour of awkward silences because I have nothing better to do."
Grandma, I love you, but that's just plain stupid.
Dad starts physical therapy on Monday. He's gonna be in a world of hurt. It's bad enough that the pain keeps him awake. He hasn't slept for more than 15 minutes at a time.
By the way, this is me at age 2:
It's a very old picture and obviously damaged from water & mold (like you can't tell).
What the hell happened to me?
1 comment:
My 8th grade history teacher is here. He goes to church with my Mom.
That's classic. You truly are from a small town.
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