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May. 30th, 2004 10:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cabbitzillaI got up this in a silent room, and had to wait until the tears passed so that I could see to walk. I fought for composure, and wobbled slowly out to my desk to nudge the G3 back to life, and then into the kitchen to get a bowl of cereal. None of the food/drinks/whatever has any taste; I'm eating mechanically because I need to, and because folks that care about me will scold me if I don't.
I settle into my chair and snap the monitor on... to find one of my friends crying and more than a bit broken. A comment was made that was taken /far/ too seriously, overreactions on all sides ensued, and another of my precious friends had all but left the Gaian forums over it. I spend time arguing with the friend that messaged me, over and over trying to get it through her head that ever single mistake of every single person is not her fault, with what felt like marginal success at best. She just doesn't want to believe how very precious she is to me, but I keep trying. I know it's impossible for all of my friends to get along, but when schisms occur in established friendship clusters I do my damnedest to mend things. The friend that still MIA ocaisionally reads through here; I'm hoping she'll see this and realize that this is all just a big misunderstanding. I started hunting for a non-invasive way to get the other friend talking, and am interrupted by the phone.
I'm bad. A lot of times, it'll ring and I simply will let it. Sometimes it's because I hurt too badly to move... sometimes it's because I'm sure it's yet another creditor calling to chew my ass out for not being able to mad two loaves of bread feed a fucking army. But this one... there was a tug at my mind, so I went to the phone. The caller ID listed the name of a hospital about an hour a way, just beyond where my mother and grandmother live. I snatched the phone from the cradle and without waiting to identify the voice ask What's wrong?
It's my mother on the other end: my grandmother's being admitted for possible liver failure. I get the rough sketch of details and bolt for my room, hollering for Megan to get dressed if she's coming with me, but that I'm not going to wait around with my thumb up my ass waiting for her overly dainty ass to take a shower. I get only minimal resistance from her... she's at least learned enough about me to know that in that frame of mind I'll simply coldcock her and leave her to wake up on her own. Five minutes after I hung up, we're in the Saturn and I'm redlining the tachometer bound for the highway. It's about a seventy five minute drive. We had to stop for fuel; I grabbed a pretzel and a pack of cigarettes while waiting and then resume hauling freight for the hospital. The tug at the back of my mind is still there... and that tug usually means I'm going to lose someone dear to me. It's a sense I've wished for decades would burn out and leave me alone. I don't often get what I want; this is no exception.
Arrived intact, stopped at the front desk: she's been fully admitted and is upstairs in her room. Dash for the elevators with Megan protesting my speed, and go up to the floor. Track through the signs and into the room... and no grandma. No mom. Room's other patient says they've not been up there yet. I bolt for the door, not realizing Megan had sat down to wait there. I hear her squawk of protest, but I'm already at the elevator when she catches up with me. She spends the next 15 minutes bitching me out for not wanting to stand and wait upstairs, until I round on her with ice in my eyes and tell her that the woods are very close and that the authorities would never find her corpse. She shows promise of wisdom by blanching white as a sheet and shutting the fuck up.
Through the maze of hallways (Why in GOD'S name are hospitals built like Dungeons & Dragons campaign maps? Can anyone tell me?), and finally out into the lobby area for the ER. Nice lady at the desk calms me a bit; yes, grandma's still here. They're prepping her to be moved, and will call us as soon as she can see us. Verify that mom's still here and still upright; she's badly diabetic, and under stress completely forgets to eat. Gee, guess where I got that trait from. There's a smoking area just beyond the windows looking into the ER, and I turn to go there... I can see in, see if they call, see if they come out, and the cigarette will soothe my nerves. Megan proves that the wisdom was a momentary thing... she gets three words into her lecture on smoking before the look in my eyes silences her again.
I go out. I have my cigarette. As I lever myself to my feet and stub the butt out in the ashtray, my mom appears inside the ER suite. I'm inside and right behind her before she realizes I'm there... and before Megan spots her. So much for staying inside and watching. Mom takes one look in my eyes, and then dispatches Megan to go find my sister Leah, who's apparently lost somewhere in the hospital. I sigh in relief as she trudges back towards the front of the building.
Mom and I flank the nurse pushing grandma's wheelchair, commenting playfully that it felt like she was dealing with a mafia matron, with the beefy mayhem-capable bodyguard trailing in the wake. Mom looks relieved as I actually chuckle; she's seen what happens when the tenuous hold I have on my temper fails. Most of the tension evaporates, and I once again lock the beast back into its' cage. The nurses get grandma settled into bed. She's alert and talkative, though she's in an awful lot of pain. Her complexion has the pale yellow look of jaundice or liver failure... and the tug in my mind is still there, telling me just how bad things are. But she's still got her sense of humor; there's still a little time, and that tugging doesn't always mean a fatality. She and I natter on for about a half hour while mom takes a much needed break and gets a couple of breaths. Megan turns up; there's no sign of Leah anywhere. She's broken a sweat, so I know she'd actually looked rather than plopping her fat ass in a chair and killing time. Mom gets pulled away getting paperwork straight with the nurse. Megan drops into a chair and mutters about being tired; grandma's hand closes around my wrist and clamps down like a vise, cutting off my snarl before it comes out. I suspect most folk would be surprised that I've got a higher opinion of Megan and her capabilities than anyone in my family... more than once she's been referred to as a 'passive-agressive ball and chain' by my relatives.
I think a lot of my friends would be utterly astounded to hear their beliefs echoed by my blood kin.
The pastor of my grandmother's church shows up; the church secretary paged him out of a four day conference, and he's driven to the hospital straight from the Baltimore convention center. That kind of diligence impresses me... he seemed to genuinely have faith and compassion. I wish there more more like him. About ten minutes after he showed up (I don't remember the poor man's name, sadly), Leah appears. Turns out she's been out in the parking lot beyond the emergency room waiting for me to show up. I get swatted in the head for having the audacity to use the front door and stop to ask directions, rather than acting like a 'typical man'. There's a Methodist minister two feet from me, so my humored-but-snarky response goes unuttered, but she knows where things stand there. It's just banter, and it's relaxing in an odd sort of way. Minister leads a very rambling prayer, showing just how tired he is, and then takes his leave.
Leah and I slip out the front doors of the hospital for a quiet talk. I get the rundown on the tests that the docs have run, and the results that are known. I can see in her eyes that she's dealing with that same tug; it's not something she and I have talked about often, but we're both aware of the other. When we get back up to the room, mom's in the chair and Megan's up talking to grandma. I grab a piece of windowsill real estate and mom and I talk quietly... grandma's a bit hard of hearing and Megan never pays enough attention to her surroundings. Mom's worried too, and I do my best to prop her back up and poke her about not eating. She gives me a resigned smile and goes to locate a vending machine. The chicken salad sandwich she returned with looked ... ucky ... but it's food and it'll shore up her blood sugar a bit.
Leah made her goodbyes and headed out; it's very likely she'll also be back there tomorrow. My uncle Gordon calls; he and mom are my grandma's pair of kids. He and grandma talk on the phone, Megan stares off into space or whatever the fuck she does when she gets that totally clueless look on her face, and mom and I resume our talk. She runs down the list of medications grandma's on; between her, mom, and I, we're a walking pharmacology reference text. Go figure. I make a worried comment about the blood pressure medication and the Cipro, and mom looks at me funny.... it's the same concern the doctor in the ER had expressed, and is one of the two possible diagnoses. Cipro and I have had issues; Leah's flat out allergic to it, and it makes mom so nauseous she can't walk.... with that kind of family history, it could be a factor. And per the ER's instructions, the Cipro's been discontinued. It's my mom's hope (and mine) that without that in her system she'll mend enough to be released.
About ten minutes before visiting hours ended for the day, I start goodbyes and grab Megan from her woolgathering to head home. As we roll out of the parking lot, she asks to take a 'scenic' route home. I shrug and comply; it makes no difference to me, really. It's roughly the same transit time. Twenty minutes out of the hospital, she complains bitterly that we're going slow and that she's bored... to which I suggested that if she didn't like the road she specifically asked me to use, I can let her out on the shoulder and she can go wherever the bloody fuck she wants to go. Her response is to turn up the stereo and look out her window and ignore me. Which, to be COMPLETELY honest, works for me. I'm only still here because of financial factors; simply put, all hope for the future requires I weather this and find a non-bankruptcy path out of it.
Trip was finished without further fuss. I spent nearly twenty minutes on the phone, updating relatives that mom didn't have numbers for in her cell phone. I'm tired to the point of collapse, but I know full well my mind won't calm enough to sleep for several hours. And it... really doesn't matter. I can't feel anything anyway. I've been numb for days, now.
I'm so very cold.
I settle into my chair and snap the monitor on... to find one of my friends crying and more than a bit broken. A comment was made that was taken /far/ too seriously, overreactions on all sides ensued, and another of my precious friends had all but left the Gaian forums over it. I spend time arguing with the friend that messaged me, over and over trying to get it through her head that ever single mistake of every single person is not her fault, with what felt like marginal success at best. She just doesn't want to believe how very precious she is to me, but I keep trying. I know it's impossible for all of my friends to get along, but when schisms occur in established friendship clusters I do my damnedest to mend things. The friend that still MIA ocaisionally reads through here; I'm hoping she'll see this and realize that this is all just a big misunderstanding. I started hunting for a non-invasive way to get the other friend talking, and am interrupted by the phone.
I'm bad. A lot of times, it'll ring and I simply will let it. Sometimes it's because I hurt too badly to move... sometimes it's because I'm sure it's yet another creditor calling to chew my ass out for not being able to mad two loaves of bread feed a fucking army. But this one... there was a tug at my mind, so I went to the phone. The caller ID listed the name of a hospital about an hour a way, just beyond where my mother and grandmother live. I snatched the phone from the cradle and without waiting to identify the voice ask What's wrong?
It's my mother on the other end: my grandmother's being admitted for possible liver failure. I get the rough sketch of details and bolt for my room, hollering for Megan to get dressed if she's coming with me, but that I'm not going to wait around with my thumb up my ass waiting for her overly dainty ass to take a shower. I get only minimal resistance from her... she's at least learned enough about me to know that in that frame of mind I'll simply coldcock her and leave her to wake up on her own. Five minutes after I hung up, we're in the Saturn and I'm redlining the tachometer bound for the highway. It's about a seventy five minute drive. We had to stop for fuel; I grabbed a pretzel and a pack of cigarettes while waiting and then resume hauling freight for the hospital. The tug at the back of my mind is still there... and that tug usually means I'm going to lose someone dear to me. It's a sense I've wished for decades would burn out and leave me alone. I don't often get what I want; this is no exception.
Arrived intact, stopped at the front desk: she's been fully admitted and is upstairs in her room. Dash for the elevators with Megan protesting my speed, and go up to the floor. Track through the signs and into the room... and no grandma. No mom. Room's other patient says they've not been up there yet. I bolt for the door, not realizing Megan had sat down to wait there. I hear her squawk of protest, but I'm already at the elevator when she catches up with me. She spends the next 15 minutes bitching me out for not wanting to stand and wait upstairs, until I round on her with ice in my eyes and tell her that the woods are very close and that the authorities would never find her corpse. She shows promise of wisdom by blanching white as a sheet and shutting the fuck up.
Through the maze of hallways (Why in GOD'S name are hospitals built like Dungeons & Dragons campaign maps? Can anyone tell me?), and finally out into the lobby area for the ER. Nice lady at the desk calms me a bit; yes, grandma's still here. They're prepping her to be moved, and will call us as soon as she can see us. Verify that mom's still here and still upright; she's badly diabetic, and under stress completely forgets to eat. Gee, guess where I got that trait from. There's a smoking area just beyond the windows looking into the ER, and I turn to go there... I can see in, see if they call, see if they come out, and the cigarette will soothe my nerves. Megan proves that the wisdom was a momentary thing... she gets three words into her lecture on smoking before the look in my eyes silences her again.
I go out. I have my cigarette. As I lever myself to my feet and stub the butt out in the ashtray, my mom appears inside the ER suite. I'm inside and right behind her before she realizes I'm there... and before Megan spots her. So much for staying inside and watching. Mom takes one look in my eyes, and then dispatches Megan to go find my sister Leah, who's apparently lost somewhere in the hospital. I sigh in relief as she trudges back towards the front of the building.
Mom and I flank the nurse pushing grandma's wheelchair, commenting playfully that it felt like she was dealing with a mafia matron, with the beefy mayhem-capable bodyguard trailing in the wake. Mom looks relieved as I actually chuckle; she's seen what happens when the tenuous hold I have on my temper fails. Most of the tension evaporates, and I once again lock the beast back into its' cage. The nurses get grandma settled into bed. She's alert and talkative, though she's in an awful lot of pain. Her complexion has the pale yellow look of jaundice or liver failure... and the tug in my mind is still there, telling me just how bad things are. But she's still got her sense of humor; there's still a little time, and that tugging doesn't always mean a fatality. She and I natter on for about a half hour while mom takes a much needed break and gets a couple of breaths. Megan turns up; there's no sign of Leah anywhere. She's broken a sweat, so I know she'd actually looked rather than plopping her fat ass in a chair and killing time. Mom gets pulled away getting paperwork straight with the nurse. Megan drops into a chair and mutters about being tired; grandma's hand closes around my wrist and clamps down like a vise, cutting off my snarl before it comes out. I suspect most folk would be surprised that I've got a higher opinion of Megan and her capabilities than anyone in my family... more than once she's been referred to as a 'passive-agressive ball and chain' by my relatives.
I think a lot of my friends would be utterly astounded to hear their beliefs echoed by my blood kin.
The pastor of my grandmother's church shows up; the church secretary paged him out of a four day conference, and he's driven to the hospital straight from the Baltimore convention center. That kind of diligence impresses me... he seemed to genuinely have faith and compassion. I wish there more more like him. About ten minutes after he showed up (I don't remember the poor man's name, sadly), Leah appears. Turns out she's been out in the parking lot beyond the emergency room waiting for me to show up. I get swatted in the head for having the audacity to use the front door and stop to ask directions, rather than acting like a 'typical man'. There's a Methodist minister two feet from me, so my humored-but-snarky response goes unuttered, but she knows where things stand there. It's just banter, and it's relaxing in an odd sort of way. Minister leads a very rambling prayer, showing just how tired he is, and then takes his leave.
Leah and I slip out the front doors of the hospital for a quiet talk. I get the rundown on the tests that the docs have run, and the results that are known. I can see in her eyes that she's dealing with that same tug; it's not something she and I have talked about often, but we're both aware of the other. When we get back up to the room, mom's in the chair and Megan's up talking to grandma. I grab a piece of windowsill real estate and mom and I talk quietly... grandma's a bit hard of hearing and Megan never pays enough attention to her surroundings. Mom's worried too, and I do my best to prop her back up and poke her about not eating. She gives me a resigned smile and goes to locate a vending machine. The chicken salad sandwich she returned with looked ... ucky ... but it's food and it'll shore up her blood sugar a bit.
Leah made her goodbyes and headed out; it's very likely she'll also be back there tomorrow. My uncle Gordon calls; he and mom are my grandma's pair of kids. He and grandma talk on the phone, Megan stares off into space or whatever the fuck she does when she gets that totally clueless look on her face, and mom and I resume our talk. She runs down the list of medications grandma's on; between her, mom, and I, we're a walking pharmacology reference text. Go figure. I make a worried comment about the blood pressure medication and the Cipro, and mom looks at me funny.... it's the same concern the doctor in the ER had expressed, and is one of the two possible diagnoses. Cipro and I have had issues; Leah's flat out allergic to it, and it makes mom so nauseous she can't walk.... with that kind of family history, it could be a factor. And per the ER's instructions, the Cipro's been discontinued. It's my mom's hope (and mine) that without that in her system she'll mend enough to be released.
About ten minutes before visiting hours ended for the day, I start goodbyes and grab Megan from her woolgathering to head home. As we roll out of the parking lot, she asks to take a 'scenic' route home. I shrug and comply; it makes no difference to me, really. It's roughly the same transit time. Twenty minutes out of the hospital, she complains bitterly that we're going slow and that she's bored... to which I suggested that if she didn't like the road she specifically asked me to use, I can let her out on the shoulder and she can go wherever the bloody fuck she wants to go. Her response is to turn up the stereo and look out her window and ignore me. Which, to be COMPLETELY honest, works for me. I'm only still here because of financial factors; simply put, all hope for the future requires I weather this and find a non-bankruptcy path out of it.
Trip was finished without further fuss. I spent nearly twenty minutes on the phone, updating relatives that mom didn't have numbers for in her cell phone. I'm tired to the point of collapse, but I know full well my mind won't calm enough to sleep for several hours. And it... really doesn't matter. I can't feel anything anyway. I've been numb for days, now.
I'm so very cold.
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Good show.
Date: 2004-05-31 09:49 am (UTC)