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.

Where Did She Go?

Hey fans --

You may have noticed the title change and the absence of HRH. It's a sad day.

The web address will remain the same in homage to HRH and her brilliant contributions in the past, however, as per her royal request, she will no longer be posting. I changed the format to reflect the end of the HRH era.

I will miss her. You will miss her.

I will do my best to carry on because now, I'm posting for two.

xoxoxo
TP

You Look Just Like My Daughter

Hi people. I've been away on a job in Florida for the last few days -- that is until I got a phone call from my sister.

Mama's in the hospital again. I found her in the kitchen floor around 5:30 this morning. She's got five staples in her head and we think she may have broken her hip.

I think my exact response was, "Okay. Um. Okay."

I told Amy to keep me posted on what was up, but after letting it sink in, I realized that I had to get home. I talked to my co-workers who were absolutely amazing. I said I needed to leave and before I could even explain the entire story, Three (my co-worker's nickname) said, "Just disappear. We'll take care of everything." I love him so much.

I packed my bags, handed over my hotel key and headed to Hertz. Seven hours later, I arrive in Fitzgerald and find a very distraught sister and a thrilled niece (V loves me so much). Sister A tells recounts the entire episode including the complete collapse Mom had after A tried to get her off the floor and the frantic, screaming phone call to 911 she made because she thought Mom, who was at that point in a pile on the floor and unresponsive, was dead.

911: 911, What's your emergency?
A: I found my Mom passed out in the floor and when I tried to get her up she went completely limp and now she won't talk to me.
911: What happened to her?
A: I don't know. I woke up and found her like this.
911: I need to know something, honey.
A: All you need to know is my damn address. Now get the hell out here!

Even in a crisis, my sister can be quite sassy.

Long story short ... I'm writing this from a cot in my mom's hospital room in Fitzgerald.

As you all know, Mom has been sick for quite a while and right now things aren't getting any better. She's been on so much medication since I've been here that she's either bitching at me because I shouldn't be here and A shouldn't have told anyone or bothered anyone about her being in the hospital, or she's telling me that I look just like her daughter and that her dead Uncle Jimmy dropped by, but didn't bring a present. (Stingy bastard.)

So, what is going on exactly?

Beats me. All I know is occasionally Mom decides to unplug and disconnect all of the tubes and monitors and then announces that she's going home. Last night she planned to roll there in a wheelchair. This is the same woman who I had to physically lift from her bed to place her on the potty seat and then reverse the move to get her back in bed. (The picture of health, my 5'11" mother weighs 117 lbs.)

So, here I sit (thank you Dorminy Memorial for your wireless internet -- apparently there is one spot in the tri-county area where I can make contact with the real world), waiting for Mom's Atavan to wear off and see who I get to deal with tonight.

Why You Gotta Bring Up Old Shit?

People. I am in a hail storm of my past. All of a sudden, I am being pelted with correspondence from people I haven't heard from in over a decade.

And, honestly, I'm not sure where I stand on the issue.

On one hand, it's fun and exciting to catch up with people who were once so important to you. Then there are the moments when your former co-worker from Blockbuster Video (and housemate) sends you info on how to get in touch with another Blockbuster Video employee who you were close with only to write him and never get a response. I mean. I know it's been a long time and most of our potential conversations will consist mainly of, "remember that time we got drunk at AJ's* and then got chicken from Guthrie's?**" Then there's this kid, Lanie. I, in a sense, grew up with Lanie. She is the younger sister of two of my closest friends from childhood. And I have known her since she was born, but I haven't seen her in years. Her older brother Jay told me that I should get in touch with her because he felt she and I would be friends.

Then he told me a story about two Seans he was friends with who he thought should meet -- seeing as how they shared the same name. And a friend named Jay. As the story goes, it didn't work out.

However, this Lanie thing is sweet. (Say it like Cartman would.) She's into literature. She's metropolitan. She's tattooed against her father's wishes. She's been to the Folsom Street Fair. She's my people. Or she at least understands my people.

So, what I'm saying is that I am reconnecting a lot lately and it's either working out or it isn't. I just find it curious that it is happening so suddenly and so abundantly. I'm sure it's totally a lesson. And seeing as how I just bought the Brain whatevercompetitiongame for Wii, I hope I don't miss out while trying to beat Erica's highest grade.

*AJ's, depending on the night of the week could be replaced with, Bullwinkle's, The Moon, Poor Paul's, or a slew of other bar names.
** Guthrie's orders never changed. They only had 5 things on the menu. Chicken Sandwich. Chicken Box. Slaw. Fries. Soda.
People. They were that good.

Sis-tah

I have a younger sister (A) with whom I have not had the best relationship. We went through phases when we were younger when we would get along. But mainly because Mom was forcing me to take her everywhere I went because she thought A would be the perfect rat. (Not to be confused with "A" of HRH fame). Of course, the only way to get her not to rat was to get her to do the bad stuff with me. Which is why A started drinking at 13 and probably why she ended up a chain smoker with two DUIs.

Since I left home, A and I have barely spoken. Even when I would go home for extended periods of time, we would hardly acknowledge each other.

And now, I'm buying her a ticket to come visit me.

I'm not sure how I ended up paying, but her coming up from Georgia came about because in the past few months she and I have bonded over our frustration with Mom. That's what a sister is for. She's the only other person on the planet who completely understands what a freak show your mother is. It's comforting.Anyway, A and I have been talking more frequently and I find myself playing the role of therapist. I guess I think that since A and I have basically the same issues, seeing as how they were contracted from the same person. And, since I spent double my deductible on therapy sessions only to find that "deductible" doesn't really mean anything to Oxford. It's like they throw out this arbitrarily obnoxious number in a "as if you could possibly reach this in a year" and because I live in New York, I surpassed it -- twice. Turns out, not important to Oxford. They don't pay back. Ever. Sorry for the digression.

Moving on. I used my vast intelligence gleaned from my 1 hour sessions every Tuesday with Mary who sat and struggled not to roll her eyes at me, to help A deal with our mother. A unfortunately has been locked in Hotel Fitzgerald Georgia with Mom and her shot at escape is looking grim. So we've been talking and one night I suggested she come visit. Long story short, I just purchased two tickets from Georgia for her and V (my neice/biologically her daughter/legally my mother's as per White Trash Dictum 97.54B-201.)The kicker? They're coming on Valentine's Day. The exact date of the last time A flew to New York. But that time was because Mom was convinced that if she stayed in Fitzgerald she'd end up dead and it was up to me to save her. My family interactions are very complicated.

It worked out well, as you can guess. Two months later I bought her a ticket back to Georgia. Round trip because it was cheaper. I threatened her with a severe beating if she tried using the return portion.

Flash forward seven years and she's coming to visit as per my invitation. We sent text messages and I have to say that up until just now I didn't realize why I was so uncertain about this visit. I truly try not to be a pessimist, and maybe I'm overreacting (right, Cindy?) but ... I still feel that I'm going to end up feeling used at the end of this.

me: ok - feb 14 atl-nyc 8pm, feb 19 nyc-atl 3pm. good?
A: that sounds good.
me: k. i'm gettin them. save dem dollaz.
A: k
me: u r soooooooo xcited
A: