This has got to stop. Seriously.

Last night, at 2:20 am, my dad woke me up to ask me to come and help him. I make it upstairs to his room, and there’s my mother, laying on the bad, half-conscious and writhing in pain. I know it’s useless to call 911 because it takes them 45 minutes to get to our house and it would only take me 15 minutes to drive her in, so we load her into the car and off I go with her next to me, crying. The whole time I’m asking where it hurts (her stomach and her side), how it hurts (not like her gallbladder a few weeks ago– that was a stabbing pain, this is a constant one which gets more intense when she tries to breathe deeply), when it started (she woke up at 2:10 because of the pain), and did she have her list with her (yes).

We get to the hospital. Now I know that nurses are overworked and everything but my mother was in serious pain. Crying. She never cries. I mean, the woman had her appendix out with only a local anaesthetic and didn’t cry. So we’re there, and I bring her in in the wheelchair, and the triage nurse comes right away. Starts taking her info. Starts prodding her stomach. Mom kind of makes a noise because, well, it hurts!– and the nurse tsk’s, rolls her eyes, and says “calm down” in the bitchiest tone I’ve ever heard. I never do this stuff because I’m a wuss but I answered her with “She’s in some pretty serious pain here”. “Yes, I realize that, Miss.” says Nurse Ratchett.

Luckily Mom had different nurses for the rest of the night.
She’s in the surgery wing now, but they haven’t performed surgery yet. They’re keeping her there to decide what they’re going to do. They have a theory that what’s wrong is that, during her surgery last month, they missed a gallstone and it made its way to her pancreas and that’s what is hurting her.

My nephew came home today but (oh poor thing) isn’t allowed to go to school for the whole week. So he misses the first week of school. Ah well.

My dad’s still okay.

I would also like to take this time to say to a dear friend that I am so sorry for what you are going through. I know some people might say it’s for the best or some other clich?©’d platitude, but really, it’s devastating and horrible. Please take care of yourself and allow others to take care of you.

Nephew:
His arm was broken (obviously) above the elbow. It was a pretty nasty break, with the bone being ‘out’ and all, so he was sent to the non-ghetto hospital (2 hrs away) to have it set. When he got there, it was decided that he needed an operation to have it set and have pins put in. So that was done, and he was put on some very strong antibiotics because, I mean, he landed in the dirt on that arm and the bone touched the dirt, and ew. He’s still in, three days later (three days? Okay he went in on Thursday, it’s Sunday, whatever). He was supposed to be released today but he’s either having a reaction to the antibiotics or he’s just really pumped full of a lot of painkillers because they tried to get him to stand up and walk around and he fainted and barfed. Well, he probably barfed first, fainted second. My sister has been in the hospital with him since Thursday night (actually she came home at 4 am Friday, slept til 10, and went back in and hasn’t been home since) so she’s pretty worn out. My mother and father are on their way to bringing her a change of clothes and some food and things before she gets admitted alongside him for exhaustion and malnutrition. All in all though, he’s okay, and will hopefully be back home tomorrow.

Dad:
As you know I drove my father in to Halifax on Friday for his checkup with the cardiologist surgeon hombre. We got to Halifax at around 9:30 am. My dad, not liking to be late to anything and not trusting that the traffic would not be hellish (he’s lived in the country too long– anything more than two cars in front of him at a light = total gridlock) decided that we needed to get to the hospital right away, do not pass go, do not collect $200. So we got there at 9:35. His appointment was for 11:00. Doop dee doo… we waited around. It gave us a good chance to talk about life and everything. We talked about what’s happening in New Orleans and how people who say “Well, it’s their own decision to live there/ to not leave when told/ they’re stupid for living somewhere where they know it’s below sea level” blah blah blah are just… not… right. No, I won’t get into politics here, but if you would like to hear more on my views feel free to email me.
Anyway. The doctor finally saw him at 1:30. Crazy delays and overscheduling. BUT! Best news ever: His aorta is healing on its own, and his blood pressure is where it should be, and he can return to work next week. Dad’s mood has changed drastically since then– he’s actually himself. Happy. Telling jokes. Acting silly. He’s not worried about having to live on 44% of his normal salary anymore because soon he will be receiving his full wage again. He also has missed working (although the fact that he works alot of nights still worries me), and will be so glad to be able to get back to that. Back into the car we hopped. After a brief stop at A&W for some lunch (yeah, I know, feed the heart patient fast food) we headed home. We got home at about 6:30, and I kind of just stumbled into bed and drooled for the next 12 or so hours. I’m pretty sure I said hello to Rob before the drooling commenced, but please don’t quote me on that one.

Also. I like being bilingual. That’s all.

Hello stress central.

I have to bring my dad into halifax tomorrow morning for an appointment about his crazy heart. We leave at 5:30 am (sadly we won’t be staying any length of time because it would be nice to see some friends but we’re getting there, he’s having his appointment, and knowing dad he’s going to want to leave for home immediately afterwards). I was all set to go to sleep at 7:30 pm when my sister phoned, frantic. She needed my mom. My nephew (her middle child) had fallen off his skateboard and his arm “looked really freaky”.

So Mom took off, and they brought him to the hospital. She phoned to let us know that yes, his arm is broken (above the elbow– oh that must suck) and asked for someone to come and pick up the other two kids. I went into town and got her oldest and youngest, brought them back here, phoned their father in Nova Scotia to let him know what was going on, reassured my dad that everything was okay, again, because he can’t afford to raise his blood pressure, fed the kids and put them to bed (well okay, the sixteen-year-old doesn’t need me to help him sleep but the 10 year old still likes a cuddle and a book read to her). Mom and Ann had to bring Billy to another hospital where the bone specialist was because apparently he might need an operation to have a pin put in and no one could do that where they were.

More than likely my mom and sister won’t be home tonight; if they are, they’ll want to sleep in. Dad and I are leaving at 5:30 in the morning. This means Rob will be taking care of the other two tomorrow (crash course daddy!), and I’m going to be fucking tired in the car, because it’s almost midnight and I can’t imagine myself falling asleep within the next 20 minutes.

Marvy.

So much sadness on the news, everywhere you look on TV you see more and more unbelievable footage.
Staring at it, thinking “I can’t do anything to help those poor people. I can only watch.”

Then you remember: You don’t wait for someone to ask you to do something. You do something, then ask if it’s enough.