yesterday i stopped at a friends house who had been holding a mahogany... bureau...desk... thing he had been holding for me for the last two years. one of those things that has a front that flips down to make a writing desk. after i had a couple of shots of a very good cheap vodka that tastes of candied orange peels and we had spoken of our friend who struggles with alcoholism, having fabulous projects in mind that we keep putting off, after we had met his happy hippy neighbor who gave me a handful of parsley to make tabouli because there was too much in her yard, i went home. my mom has moved into my house whilte she looks for another one and my brother is living with me because he is an irresponsible and angry asshole who no one else would put up with.,
i walked in the door carrying a very large and damaged...whatever that thing is called, chatted with eric before he toddled off and came inside to find some pledge or murphys oil soap or something to clean the... cabinet out with. and i heard my mom calling me from upstairs.
"brazen...uh..."
yeah, mom.
brazen
yeah, whats up?
ummm...
mom, take your time.
my brother comes out of his room.
um...cant talk...um...ah...arm feels funny...uh...scared...
mom, we are going to take you to the hospital, okay? are you feeling okay or should we call an ambulance?
um...im feeling a bit better now.
well, were still taking you to the hospital, mom.
i feel much better, but i guess your right, just let me get dressed first.
and so it went. she got right in and was sent immediately to a cat scan after she passed the "can you tell us what year it is?" test. i counted five apologies from my mother, after i had started counting, about how she was so much trouble and shes sorry for bothering me, she offered to help the nurse four times, and she was so tired she kept nodding off (it was, after all, 10 pm).
i had three cigarettes, two shots from the flask, finished two magazines from cover to cover, and then...they dont know whats wrong. the physicians assistant, who was the only doctor we saw, seemed to want to float us out of the room on a wave of of technical descriptions. he spoke long enough that we could remember what episodic meant, and what "not an infarction" meant, and to learn six, maybe seven, new ways he could say "we dont know what it is, could be nothing, could be your life, could be months of therapy to recover brain function, please go home and worry, but dont worry too much because i dont want you to think that i might have known about anything before hand, and even though i mentioned the mri test is the best one to do at this point, for some reason i am going to avoid mentioning it aside from the fact that it is very expensive, blah blah blah," and so on.
now, morning after. im going to have an enormous cup of coffee, maybe make myself something to eat that is greasy and good, maybe use the parsley, maybe go to a buffet.
i'll try to figure out the name of the fucking piece of fucking furniture, and clean the fuck out of it, and then i will continue to not be generally frustrated nor angry with...oh...everything, but i will certainly not think of my mom in the hospital.
i walked in the door carrying a very large and damaged...whatever that thing is called, chatted with eric before he toddled off and came inside to find some pledge or murphys oil soap or something to clean the... cabinet out with. and i heard my mom calling me from upstairs.
"brazen...uh..."
yeah, mom.
brazen
yeah, whats up?
ummm...
mom, take your time.
my brother comes out of his room.
um...cant talk...um...ah...arm feels funny...uh...scared...
mom, we are going to take you to the hospital, okay? are you feeling okay or should we call an ambulance?
um...im feeling a bit better now.
well, were still taking you to the hospital, mom.
i feel much better, but i guess your right, just let me get dressed first.
and so it went. she got right in and was sent immediately to a cat scan after she passed the "can you tell us what year it is?" test. i counted five apologies from my mother, after i had started counting, about how she was so much trouble and shes sorry for bothering me, she offered to help the nurse four times, and she was so tired she kept nodding off (it was, after all, 10 pm).
i had three cigarettes, two shots from the flask, finished two magazines from cover to cover, and then...they dont know whats wrong. the physicians assistant, who was the only doctor we saw, seemed to want to float us out of the room on a wave of of technical descriptions. he spoke long enough that we could remember what episodic meant, and what "not an infarction" meant, and to learn six, maybe seven, new ways he could say "we dont know what it is, could be nothing, could be your life, could be months of therapy to recover brain function, please go home and worry, but dont worry too much because i dont want you to think that i might have known about anything before hand, and even though i mentioned the mri test is the best one to do at this point, for some reason i am going to avoid mentioning it aside from the fact that it is very expensive, blah blah blah," and so on.
now, morning after. im going to have an enormous cup of coffee, maybe make myself something to eat that is greasy and good, maybe use the parsley, maybe go to a buffet.
i'll try to figure out the name of the fucking piece of fucking furniture, and clean the fuck out of it, and then i will continue to not be generally frustrated nor angry with...oh...everything, but i will certainly not think of my mom in the hospital.