This is the Way I Live (on IJ)

There is a very fine line between "hobby" and "mental illness." - Dave Barry

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Out of Memory - System Overload - Reboot Required @ 08:43 am


It is so very hard to think straight this morning. Alex is probably at the hospital by now. Elizabeth called last night, so now I officially know about the surgery. At least I don't have the stress of keeping her from knowing I know now.

The bone is massively out of place - the one end is overlapping the ball of the shoulder joint. The doctor thought Alex must have fallen to have moved it so, but she doesn't know how it happened. The doctor won't know until he can see the bone whether he will be putting in pins or a plate. He also doesn't know if he will have to cut muscle to get to the bone - if he does, of course, her recovery will be much slower and more painful. He expects to put an external splint of some sort on her as well. Whether or not she will have to spend the night in the hospital depends on how well she does under anesthesia. The surgery will take 1 - 2 hours.

I talked to Alex for quite a while last night. She's scared, but her biggest complaint is that Kayce won't be able to be with her at the hospital.

Then there is all this other garbage to keep in my head. I need to be out of this hotel room in a couple hours. This afternoon mom wants to have some sort of big discussion with her Home Care Lady and me. I have to put gas in the rental car and return it by 5:30. I have to get packed. I haven't got enough food to pack for lunch. 

And while I'm packing I have to keep in mind that Wednesday morning I am going in for the stress test on my heart, which will take up to four hours. I am allowed no cigarettes and nothing by mouth except water after 6:30 A.M., and need to be at the hospital dressed for walking on the treadmill by 10:15. I don't get to SeaTac until something like 11:00 P.M. I've barely left myself time to sleep, much less think about getting prepared.

In the meantime I have to buoy mom's spirits. She is already pushing me to say I will come back to visit no later than this autumn. She is continually talking about me being the only blood relative she has left alive, and that no one else will cry when she dies. If I cry when she dies, it will be because I am absolutely and totally overwhelmed by what to do with the contents of her house, but of course I can't tell her that. She also wants to be reassured that she and dad were good parents, and it is difficult for me to pretend to be enthusiastic about that as well. She wants me to say I know that she and dad were not alcoholics, that dad was a saint, and that she is not a racist. I'm having trouble being sincere about all this lying.

I haven't made my flight reservations for the Quantum Leap convention or paid any bills. And after I leave this hotel I don't know when I am going to be able to get back on line.

At least I seem to be over the cold. If I weren't, I might just lie down and die.

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This is the Way I Live (on IJ)

There is a very fine line between "hobby" and "mental illness." - Dave Barry