So I pooped the bed and I’m here lying awake at 1:30 in the morn.
What a fucken day. With a capital F.
I was down in the Reclusium covered in sawdust, happier than a clam… and Mom calls. Pa Filthie tripped and fell. Pop is 81 and a fall like that is serious business. Paramedics are telling us his hip and shoulder are dislocated or broken. When I got there he was jammed in the doorway out to the garage with a big cut over his eye. He moaned quietly as the paramedics poked and prodded and tried to unjam him and get him on a stretcher. He did manage to give me a rude wink and a smirk when I showed up… but he was in a world of hurt. Eventually they got him loaded up and coked up on pain killers and parked in Emergency down at the hospital. No visitors until they get him in a bed and looked after.
The furnace guy was downstairs so I went down and asked him if he could reschedule… and he packed up and left. After things settled I sat down in his shop and idly played with some of his tools. Some of my failed projects were prominently on display along with his own. Where my Reclusium looks like a medieval chamber of horrors… Pop’s Shoppe is spic n’ span and as clean as a green bean Marine’s M16. He’s even got a dust collection system down there, the fag. I’d tell him he should just breathe the sawdust and savour the various flavours of wood like I do, HAR! But… I shoulda bought a dust system too… I’ve always picked it out of my nose and eyes and coughed it up… there aren’t enough clamps in Pop’s shop either. Like father, like son.
Mom blew me away. I woulda thunk she’d be a shrieking lunatic but she was just a crisis management machine. She swapped info with the paramedics like she was in charge of the team. She knew all about Dad’s drugs and prescriptions, and she was in close when she had to be, and backed off to give the boys room when they needed it to work. She did go a little wonky later after the ambulance got away. She started grumping about how Pop was a dumbass - apparently he’d had half a beer before the accident, “and he wears those stupid shoes!” I remember looking foolishly down at my own crocs … and wishing that some forms of mental retardation were not inherited. Pop and Big Bro used to get around in leather moccasins that look like they got taken off a dead injun in the last century. Pop had sore feet so he upgraded to some high performance runners… and maybe they were too fast for him? HAR!
Remember Dr Frazier Crane on TV? How his dad was a rude grump with that awful little Jack Russel terrier? My dad has a small dawg too… and the little bugger has picked up on the anxiety. I picked him up and squished him with a hug but he knows something is seriously wrong. I told mom that she is not to put that dawg down regardless of what happens, we will take him if he becomes too much trouble… but I know she will. Shit like that just drives me bonkers… but…whaddya gonna do?
I missed many of the inflection points in my life because I got bogged down with the bullshit of others. When my daughter flipped out and ran away to join the circus, I had to cope with meddling in-laws and the family shitlibs and I didn’t even realize my family was radically, irreversibly changing and would never be the same. I suppose nobody else did either. But that was different. Now…whatever changes come… will come. My Maker is in the driver’s seat, and for now, I’m just along for the ride.
But I prattle. Poasting might be light depending on events. Hey - thanks for stopping in. Have a great Humpday.
As of 1:30 last night, Pop was still parked in the triage line up at emergency. He went down at around 1:30 in the afternoon. This is Canada's vaunted health care system, supposedly the envy of the world. "Sure - everything is covered! The gubbimint will pay for everything!!!" And... when you are down and out and need help now... welp... ya just gotta wait ya turn, Johnny Canuck! If some fucken immigrant pakie (who never paid into the health care system) trips on his shadow and cracks his noggin - he goes to the front of the line! If some coke head gets shot fighting over drugs in the back alley - he goes up front too! If Turdo La Doo or one of his fart catchers stubs his toe - guess what? You guessed it: limited resources! Priorities! Mom and Dad were big proponents of socialized medicine... and now we get to see how it really works. (No, I am not going to say 'I told ya so...!')
Today Mom is back to her usual self too. Her furnace went out last night and she almost died when it went down to 19C in the morn. I don't get to see Pop today, I have to be there to supervise the furnace guy when he shows up to make repairs and control the dawg. She's back to being a raging bitch so I guess that is a good thing, HAR HAR HAR!!! That is a good sign at least. I won't do family drama anymore. I will go where I'm put, I will help where I can... and I will see Pop when I see him. If it is to be in the next world, so be it.