January 7
If someone could tell me why this camera looks so very shitty and blue and washed out, all the time, I'd be a happy little fucker.
My Grandmother is fine. I got to the hospital on Friday at 5:45, they were already there. Disrobed and ready. We sat around and made idle chitchat, as idle as you can make with someone who's approaching a surgery described as "incredibly difficult and risky". She, I know wondered a lot more than she let on all of the "am I doing a stupid thing? will i die? what if I have a stroke?" to us. At 7, the bed appeared before her, she slowly climbed on and we followed her towards the operating room. As we rounded a corner behind the orderly, we were greeted with an amazing, vibrant purple and pink sunrise, and it became important to me that she see it. I obsessed, over the next 8 hours, whether she did.
8 hours in hospital time, waiting for someone is not 8 hours normal time, working. I went back and forth between my desk and waiting rooms. At my desk, I was strangely calm, but unapproachable, wondering about the sunrise, where people go when they're under anesthesia, how much longer I'll be able to stay at my job before I lose my mind, and over anda over, back to that sunrise. I think what struck me about it, the reason I wanted to know so badly was because I wanted to know if, as they pushed her past, as she turned her eyes to it, if she wondered to herself "Will this be the last one I ever see?" To me, that's an amazingly big thing to think about, you know? Every day, we have the potential for death. Every day. Every minute. Every second, we know this. We don't think about it, often. When we do, it is a passing thing, a "wow, that car came a little close to me" or "woah, where'd THAT pain come from?" forgotten a moment later. But that sunrise what if it was me? What if the roles were reversed? What if, what if? How would it be possible to make peace with the last sun rise I might ever see? I suppose that that is where faith comes in, and truthfully, I have not yet settled on what I believe. I know that my grandmother has and I imagine that it helped.
At noon, as we sat in the CTICU waiting room, a nurse came to us. "We will do three bypasses, she is doing all right, she will be done in an hour or an hour and a half." I went back to my desk. I pushed papers around. I gave it an hour and a half. I ran back. Still nothing. We sat. Two hours. Nothing. Two and a half. Three. Three and a half, and finally, the surgeon. I have been at that end of the conversation more times than I'd like to recall. Again and again, and never, ever have I been there, with a grinning surgeon. She is not only fine, she is phenomenal. They did more than they thought they were going to be able to do. She was strong and perfect and amazing and great. She is ballsy. We went in to see her. I was stunned. She really was fine. Or, as fine as someone who's just had 8 hour long quadruple bypass surgery at 74 years old can be. She was awake, intubated, and pissed off. Perfect.
Three days later, they are moving her from the ICU. She, herself is astonished at how well it went, and when I asked her yesterday, she told me that she had seen the sun rising.
Lest You Think I've Gone All Soft On You:
So, here's some of the ways people find me, you perverts:
sexsexsexsex
sweet shit
baby slut
"monkey taking a shit" (x 2)
monkey fuck (x 2)
"pretty bottom" (x2)
slut monkey
girl on bike
monkey, shit flinging
slut with dogs
chinese slut
fuck pictures (x 5)
funny monkey
girl's best friend
lord bobafett
slut, cream using
And more "monkey" searches than I could even tell you. Cream using slut? Okay..
This week will be dodgy for me. My mother is leaving tomorrow afternoon. This leaves at least 2 days with my grandmother still in the hospital and Angelo unsupervised. If danger signs are not flashing for you, they should be. Angelo ought not be alone. Ergo, the idea of my mother leaving him there at the hospital and him turning to my grandmother in bed and saying "I will be back, I have to go to the bathroom" and then me getting a phone call an hour later from a pissed off neurosurgeon saying "please get your grandfather out of my operating room!". I joke about it, but no shit, I am going to be doing some Angelo sitting. Again, I'm not complaining, just stating a fact.
I will update during the day, when I can. I promise.
yesterday | home | email | tomorrow
cry cry cry
it's just you and i
like and automobile
with no one at the wheel
spinning out of control
we're all over the road
in our sexy machine
all the passengers scream
scream scream