Welcome to my world!
My life's been crazy since my Daddy moved in with me immediately after my mother's death in October 2010. My one and only kiddo headed to college at Carolina at the end of August. So...I lived on my own, for the first time in my life, for a total of a blissful six weeks. Then, I started the parenting gig with my dad. He's a combination of a grouchy old man, a surly teenager and a temperamental toddler. Needless to say, I get very close to the brink of insanity sometimes. I get through life by finding the humor in difficult circumstances. And for some reason, I wind up in the weirdest situations. I couldn't make this stuff up. So I wind up having lots and lots crazy adventures which make great stories to share with my friends. Writing about my life is so therapeutic. My ramblings range from funny to sad to angry (full of cuss words) to sweet. While my focus is dealing with the trials and tribulations of being a parent to my Daddy, I have lots of random, totally unrelated posts. Whatever's on my mind. I love to make people laugh, and I'm happy to think my readers will get my strange sense of humor. And maybe, people who are in my situation will be encouraged. That's all I can hope for...
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
The D is Sick...
At least the nausea's gone. He drank a big milkshake and ate half a Chik-Fil-A sandwich last night. He has some lung conditions (chronic bronchitis, for one), so it can be much more serious with him. A couple years ago, he fainted a few times and had to go in the hospital. It took a week for them to diagnose the lung problems. They did lots of tests to eliminate heart disease first.
I'll never forget walking into the hospital room. He had thrown up on himself. Mother had done her best to clean him up and then called the nurse to bring a new gown and bed linens. That had been 30 minutes earlier. I turned into Aurora Greenway and stormed down the hall and told them my daddy was lying there in fucking vomit and they'd better get someone in there stat. I got the usual look of "Eat Shit and Die." But I stood there and waited until they dispatched some pseudo-professional with an acronym for a title to his room. They hate me. But they're afraid of me. I throw around the hospital president's name - used to go to church with him. Half of them don't know who he is. I've learned to just call risk management. They tend to have brains in their heads. They're always VERY sympathetic. And they actually know their boss's name. More importantly, his wife's name. I usually say, "Fred and Ethyl are good friends and they always ask me about my parents' hospital stays. I'd hate to complain." That's much more subtle than, "Don't make me call Fred Merton on you. Ummm, he would be your boss. No, I know Nurse Ratched is your boss... Oh never mind. Will you get Nurse Ratched?"
So here I am. The lioness (born in July, no less). Fiercely protective. The D won't eat supper. Glad I made tomorrow's appointment. I got chicken and dumplings from McAllister's for him for lunch today and he would only eat a little.
Jolynna showed me some houses tonight. It just confirmed that I love the parsonage. Hated the comps. Good to have clarity. Gotta work out financing, but not worried. She's amazing - chatted up their realtor and found out that they're willing to come down 10k. She'll shoot for more. Love, love, love that girl.
We stopped by Half Shell for a quick drink on the way home. We were the belles of the bar - but all the prince charmings were much older. Left full of drinks we didn't pay for, feeling sooo desirable. And young. Played our bar game - easily identified the banker, architect and salesman. Well, we just said "technical field" for the architect. And then we left, feeling silly and light-hearted. And young.
Jolynna dropped me at my door and as I walked up the back steps, reality set in. As I suspected, The D wouldn't eat anything. He didn't look good. I felt his head (he was a little feverish) and hugged his neck and reminded him that we'd see the doc the next day. I feel the very same way I did when Kiddo was little and got sick. Worried. Protective. Like a mother lion with her cub.
Posted by Carol at 8:18 PM