cabbitzilla (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cabbitzilla) wrote2004-07-17 10:21 pm
cabbitzilla) wrote2004-07-17 10:21 pm
(no subject)
*sighs*
So I take care of my little errand, and shuttle the carload of stuff down to my Mom's place. The traffic's minimal, Mom's not talkative, so I haul ass back towards home, thinking only of cracking a cold soda and settling back into SMT and the warmth of RP. I'm running considerably ahead of schedule, so as I neared home I swung off to hit a 7-Eleven. Money's incredibly tight right now, but I figured I could pick up a candy bar or something for Megan. Pulled into the lot, hit the pay phone....
... and discover that Megan had just missed catching me at my Mom's place. My grandfather's back in the hospital. I grab what details she has, grab a jug of Gatorade to try and shore myself up, and get back out on the highway bound for the hospital... that's nearly back down to Mom's again. I broke the speed limit and a few laws of nature, and managed to roll into the hospital lot just a bit before 9p. Found a place to park and headed for the entrance, only to be stopped just before I got to the elevators...
... visiting hours end at 9. It's just turned 9...
I collapsed into a chair in the lobby, crying and feeling numb. About ten minutes later, my father and step-mom came out of the elevators. Evelyn spots me, though it apparently took saying my birth name three times to rouse me from the fog I'd fallen into; I ... just don't think of that name as mine... it's not who I am, and when I'm really out of it my mind simply doesn't acknowledge it. But she was persistent... and I managed to at least get a status update on my grandfather: nothing broken, but the doctors are worried because the cellulitis (sp?) on his right leg has flared really badly again. He'd fallen at his home Friday night just after my dad left from the second of the twice daily checkins... and ended up laying nearly upside down in the garage for nearly all of the fourteen hours that elapsed before dad's next stop. Grandpa only remembers falling, not why. There was no indications of tripping over anything; he just fell.
He also doesn't remember going to the garage. Or changing clothes. When dad found him, he had the keys to the old Kawasaki in his hand... a bike which's been in my dad's basement 40 minutes away for almost six years. If there's a mental image more frightening than a befuddled 84yo dude on a full dress cruiser... in tuxedo pants and lime green polyester blazer... then I simply do NOT want to know what it is. I'm so very tired. I'm hoping there's enough left of my brain try and function a bit tonight, but I've got a sinking feeling the answer is no. I'll have to head down to the hospital when I wake tomorrow.
So tired.
So I take care of my little errand, and shuttle the carload of stuff down to my Mom's place. The traffic's minimal, Mom's not talkative, so I haul ass back towards home, thinking only of cracking a cold soda and settling back into SMT and the warmth of RP. I'm running considerably ahead of schedule, so as I neared home I swung off to hit a 7-Eleven. Money's incredibly tight right now, but I figured I could pick up a candy bar or something for Megan. Pulled into the lot, hit the pay phone....
... and discover that Megan had just missed catching me at my Mom's place. My grandfather's back in the hospital. I grab what details she has, grab a jug of Gatorade to try and shore myself up, and get back out on the highway bound for the hospital... that's nearly back down to Mom's again. I broke the speed limit and a few laws of nature, and managed to roll into the hospital lot just a bit before 9p. Found a place to park and headed for the entrance, only to be stopped just before I got to the elevators...
... visiting hours end at 9. It's just turned 9...
I collapsed into a chair in the lobby, crying and feeling numb. About ten minutes later, my father and step-mom came out of the elevators. Evelyn spots me, though it apparently took saying my birth name three times to rouse me from the fog I'd fallen into; I ... just don't think of that name as mine... it's not who I am, and when I'm really out of it my mind simply doesn't acknowledge it. But she was persistent... and I managed to at least get a status update on my grandfather: nothing broken, but the doctors are worried because the cellulitis (sp?) on his right leg has flared really badly again. He'd fallen at his home Friday night just after my dad left from the second of the twice daily checkins... and ended up laying nearly upside down in the garage for nearly all of the fourteen hours that elapsed before dad's next stop. Grandpa only remembers falling, not why. There was no indications of tripping over anything; he just fell.
He also doesn't remember going to the garage. Or changing clothes. When dad found him, he had the keys to the old Kawasaki in his hand... a bike which's been in my dad's basement 40 minutes away for almost six years. If there's a mental image more frightening than a befuddled 84yo dude on a full dress cruiser... in tuxedo pants and lime green polyester blazer... then I simply do NOT want to know what it is. I'm so very tired. I'm hoping there's enough left of my brain try and function a bit tonight, but I've got a sinking feeling the answer is no. I'll have to head down to the hospital when I wake tomorrow.
So tired.
no subject