More News from the Cot

Mom’s still in the hospital. I took a night off last night and stayed with my sister and niece. And the cats. And the puppy. And the insane Bichon who believes her back right leg is out to get her. Seriously. She’ll be eating and catch a glimpse of the leg in her peripheral. Apparently believing the leg is trying to snatch some of her kibble, she attacks it ferociously. It takes her forever to have a meal.

As you may know (since everyone who reads this is a personal friend), The Princess has severe asthma that is triggered by cat and dog dander. I also have a Snow White aura that attracts all animals, so at one point last night I was unintentionally spooning the Bichon, the puppy was laying on his back snoring in the crook of my neck while I attempted to deter the skittish cat from joining the party by making sudden movements with my foot. By the time CVS opened this morning and I was able to get some Primatene Mist, I was coughing so hard I almost wrecked my rental Kia.Back in the hospital, I’m still dealing with snoring (as well as Vegas-like bells and whistles going off continuously), but at least I can breathe.

Since the last post on Mom, we’ve had a new development. While I was struggling for oxygen beneath the adorable Shih-Tsu puppy, Mom, against everyone’s orders, attempted to get to the bathroom alone. And that’s how we added broken wrist to the list of maladies she’s carrying around. The story is that she was attempting to ring the nurse’s bell — but only after she had gotten herself into a sitting position and became dizzy. Crash, boom, mangled wrist. Surgery is scheduled for next Thursday.

A plus is that I’m adding to my skill set. I have become quite adept at the typical hospital tasks. I can work the hydraulic tray like a pro, I know where the kitchen is on every floor and I have memorized the cafeteria schedule. (They cater!) I’ve even got an in with security since I graduated high school with the night supervisor. I can dump the potty pot without splashing and I am keeping track of the urine accumulation for the staff.

If there is a Smoking Baby in the airport lounge in the sky (and we know there is), he will lift me from my Dorminy Memorial prison, heal my mother and get me the fuck back to Brooklyn.

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  1. Pingback: My Letter to the One That Got Away |

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