The Call, Or Not The Call
2006-07-24, 1:18 p.m.
I guess the ominously-quiet time of life where no big disasters occurred has ended once again. Whee.
Before I start with the new drama, here's the old because I keep forgetting to write an entry about it. According to Mom, she did have some kind of talk with Dad last week about how he doesn't have to stay alive for her. I forget her exact phrasing of what she said, but she said Dad "blinked at her" in response. For once she didn't decide to interpret for him what he meant or may not have meant by blinking.
I don't think this has made any difference in the ol' biological Mexican standoff, but it was a step for her, and a good one, and god knows it was one I never thought she'd take.
Anyway, today he went back into the ICU with aspiration pneumonia (again). I gather the various antibiotics aren't working as well as they used to, which is to be expected. The doctors told Mom not to take off from work, but she immediately fled and ran off to pick up Mauricio on the way over.
I have NOT given my mom my direct number at work. I didn't have a phone for most of a year, and this phone doesn't have voice mail, nor can I call long-distance. Emergencies or not, I didn't want her calling me up all the damn time and expecting me to call her back long-distance the way she did at my last job. I've given her a general office number and my boss's number to call instead. Alas, this happy state of affairs has ended today, because she started calling around and someone gave her the number. She called during lunch, while I was sitting around calling the post office every five minutes and getting a busy signal (I'm having Package Drama again, though at least they said they'd hold it for 10 days now).
She has been told to round up whatever religious authorities she is in contact with. She called her Stephen minister, but she's out of town. The pastor is coming over soon.
I asked, "Is this the drop everything and run call?" She had no idea. So uh... I guess we have no idea.
Though she didn't exactly sound like she'd been crying, so I guess that's good. She and M were pretty cheerful, despite the shit.
Oh, and apparently Grandpa is "close to the end" or something and Grandma's not taking it well. What's wrong with him, I asked? Oh, nobody KNOWS exactly... Huh? I told the HR lady at work what was going on and then muttered, "I hate my family," and she laughed and said that everyone feels like that. I love her.
I can't help but think, "Please don't time things so that I have to go to funerals in two different states in the same amount of time. Dear lord, we don't need that drama." Not to mention Grandma getting the emotional facepunching twice in the same amount of time.
So, now it's EVEN MORE LIMBO. Whee! I've been planning for the shit to go down in fall and now I'm wondering if I should start notifying people at the CC if I disappear this week. (Hell, I'm wondering if I'll make it to airbrush class tonight.) Not to mention that training at work is going on, and I still gotta pick up that package sometime within the next 10 days. And I already signed up for makeup hours at the CC on the last two Saturdays in August, so I guess that might be taken care of after the fact rather than before...
Oh, and did I mention that the PITAS are out of town? And by out of town, I mean "they're staying in MY neck of the woods?" Apparently they hauled off to one of the dinky towns near to my town to go to the library. (Don't ask, I don't know what's with this either.) But apparently they are around until Thursday or so. So if The Death Call comes in, guess what? They can come and pick me up and drive me to the hospital! Won't that be lovely!?! They can rag on me for an hour and a half about how I didn't get married off before Dad died or something!
I repeat: Gah.
Update: 2:38 p.m.: Grandpa died about fifteen minutes ago. Grandma is not taking it well.
I seriously think she is going to will herself to die as soon as possible now that this has happened. She can't commit suicide because she's Catholic, but between Grandpa and Dad she is guaranteed to go over the deep end. Man, I was hoping Grandpa would go after Dad to avoid this. Not to mention that now that Grandpa has gone first, it means I can't go to the funeral, whenever the hell that is. I mentioned it to Mom and she was being all subtle and "No, you can't leave me NOW," so.
Meanwhile, the damn PITAS turned out to be in the NIXON library, not the DIXON library, so they're in Southern California instead of nearby me. (Whew.) But here's the dickheaded thing: despite there being a death in the family (her stepfather, for chrissake!), the PITAS are NOT ending their vacation early because they paid for it, dammit, and they will NOT return until Thursday.
Sweet fucking Jesus, I can't believe those people. Some of us can figure out that NOW IS NOT A GOOD FUCKING TIME TO TAKE A VACATION THIS YEAR, and who the hell else CAN go fly up to Montana and scrape Grandma off the floor other than the merry retirees? Um, that's NOBODY, buddy.
Mom is still waiting for the pastor to drive in from wherever. She said they wanted her to decide whether or not to take him off life support and just let him go into a coma. But if she decides yes, she'll keep him alive until at least Thursday so the PITAS, well rested and tanned from their lovely vacation, can say goodbye if they fucking feel like it.
Update, 11 p.m.: Told the airbrush painting teacher I may or may not be at the last class or two. Who the fuck knows.
Called Mom at 9, 9:15, 9:30, 9:45, 10, 10:15...no answer on any of her phones. She finally answers at 10:30 and wants to call me back. By this point I'm like, wtf?
In the end, there is no drama. Pastor Chuck came. Pastor Chuck talked. Mom apparently spaced out and didn't pay attention- "I was trying to concentrate!"
The doctor told her they have to ask Dad if he wants to die or not, and they tried, but he was too asleep to uh, "answer." She will be going back to the hospital all day again tomorrow. In other words, MORE LIMBO!
And Tammy will be the one who goes to Montana for the funeral.