Friday, February 27, 2004
Wednesday, February 25, 2004
Happy, happy, joy, joy
I’m alive.
Hun, that’s always a comforting statement to make.
Well, the not so fun week became the not so fun two weeks and you better be listening Powers that Be because it’s over! You hear me. No more of this not so fun crap. We’re moving back to happiness and flowers and cute puppy dogs. (For another day- the new puppy at work, not so cute and sweet.)
So, to recap, Chloe fell last, last (whatever) Saturday and broke her nose, chipped her teeth, bloodied her lips, and scraped up her face and arms. So they took her to the hospital. Not fun. Not fun. But patch her up, send her out. Right?
Nope.
Her chemical stuff was all out of wack, she had a urinary infection, and her diabetes stuff was just plain wrong. So the hospital has kept her since yesterday morning and that‘s just because John threw a hissy fit and took her home. Since Chloe is missing a large chunk of her brain and can’t remember anything new they put her in the crazy-in-the-brain wing of the hospital while she was there.
Oh yeah, it was really great to be able to look down the hall about five or six doors and see the room my grandmother stayed in while they “treated” her for terminal brain cancer just over a year ago. Fun.
Also since Chloe is kinda crazy, and when her chemical stuff is all screwed up she’s even more nuts, the nurses were unable to tell when she was telling the truth. When she said she didn’t have to go to the bathroom. When she said something hurt. When she said she wanted to check herself out. Or, one of my favorites, when she said she needed to get to Mexico. (I think the nurses figured that one out) So somebody has to play interpreter.
Then, come Saturday, John got back the results from his medical exam he took just before Chloe fell. He has cancer. Wow. Just more freaking fun. The good? Supposedly it’s completely treatable, fixable, gonable. The bad? I get to be crazy Chloe translator.
The nurses looked at me like I was crazy every time I told them something. “No. She does have to go to the bathroom.” “No, she doesn’t have to go to the men’s club.” “No, don’t call her mother, she’s dead.”
So while the Ohio shindig is going on I got to walk Chloe down to get an MRI as she tells me about the Christmas decorations we’re gonna put up in a few hours. I’m still coping… maybe I’ll skip the coping and keep right on with pissed.
You know how much sleep you can get when you’re sleeping in a sleeping bag on a couch in the loony wing of a hospital? Not that much. You know what kind of food you get? Bad egg rolls. Never eat hospital egg rolls. Why the hell do they even make egg rolls? Stick to what’s in the vending machine. Monday I got bored so I only ate orange things from the vending machines. You’d be surprised how many orange things there are. Orange pop, orange juice, cheese crackers, cheetos, orange ticktacs, cream swirls, those nasty honey bun rip offs, cheese lay’s chips, and orange skittles (I gave the rest to Kenny). There were more orangey things but not quite orange enough to fit my strict criteria.
Also, the longer you hand around crazy people the easier it is to think you’re nuts.
I got home yesterday, after they let Chloe go home, and slept all day. All day. Got home around two and went to bed. Didn’t wake up till this morning. Ahhhhh.
Hun, that’s always a comforting statement to make.
Well, the not so fun week became the not so fun two weeks and you better be listening Powers that Be because it’s over! You hear me. No more of this not so fun crap. We’re moving back to happiness and flowers and cute puppy dogs. (For another day- the new puppy at work, not so cute and sweet.)
So, to recap, Chloe fell last, last (whatever) Saturday and broke her nose, chipped her teeth, bloodied her lips, and scraped up her face and arms. So they took her to the hospital. Not fun. Not fun. But patch her up, send her out. Right?
Nope.
Her chemical stuff was all out of wack, she had a urinary infection, and her diabetes stuff was just plain wrong. So the hospital has kept her since yesterday morning and that‘s just because John threw a hissy fit and took her home. Since Chloe is missing a large chunk of her brain and can’t remember anything new they put her in the crazy-in-the-brain wing of the hospital while she was there.
Oh yeah, it was really great to be able to look down the hall about five or six doors and see the room my grandmother stayed in while they “treated” her for terminal brain cancer just over a year ago. Fun.
Also since Chloe is kinda crazy, and when her chemical stuff is all screwed up she’s even more nuts, the nurses were unable to tell when she was telling the truth. When she said she didn’t have to go to the bathroom. When she said something hurt. When she said she wanted to check herself out. Or, one of my favorites, when she said she needed to get to Mexico. (I think the nurses figured that one out) So somebody has to play interpreter.
Then, come Saturday, John got back the results from his medical exam he took just before Chloe fell. He has cancer. Wow. Just more freaking fun. The good? Supposedly it’s completely treatable, fixable, gonable. The bad? I get to be crazy Chloe translator.
The nurses looked at me like I was crazy every time I told them something. “No. She does have to go to the bathroom.” “No, she doesn’t have to go to the men’s club.” “No, don’t call her mother, she’s dead.”
So while the Ohio shindig is going on I got to walk Chloe down to get an MRI as she tells me about the Christmas decorations we’re gonna put up in a few hours. I’m still coping… maybe I’ll skip the coping and keep right on with pissed.
You know how much sleep you can get when you’re sleeping in a sleeping bag on a couch in the loony wing of a hospital? Not that much. You know what kind of food you get? Bad egg rolls. Never eat hospital egg rolls. Why the hell do they even make egg rolls? Stick to what’s in the vending machine. Monday I got bored so I only ate orange things from the vending machines. You’d be surprised how many orange things there are. Orange pop, orange juice, cheese crackers, cheetos, orange ticktacs, cream swirls, those nasty honey bun rip offs, cheese lay’s chips, and orange skittles (I gave the rest to Kenny). There were more orangey things but not quite orange enough to fit my strict criteria.
Also, the longer you hand around crazy people the easier it is to think you’re nuts.
I got home yesterday, after they let Chloe go home, and slept all day. All day. Got home around two and went to bed. Didn’t wake up till this morning. Ahhhhh.
Friday, February 20, 2004
Thursday, February 19, 2004
Monday, February 16, 2004
Ah hell. Let me be cliché, when it rains, it pours.
This week has to go down in Kayt history as… the… really not fun week.
I’m really busy so I’ll skip the good stuff and school stuff and the little bads and go to the crappy part. Chloe is in the emergency room. She fell Saturday and busted up her lip, teeth, nose, and arm and has been talking really slowly and walking like she’s drunk these past few weeks. It makes me feel sick. On top of feeling scared for Chloe it freaks me out because this is just how it started when Nana got brain cancer. She sounded like she was drunk. Talked slowed, swayed when she walked. The last day she was pretty much normal I stayed with her. The doctors said she wasn’t supposed to be alone. We sat alone at my Aunt’s house all afternoon. She make dinner, spaghetti I think, and we watched art history programs and shows with that tattoo guy from star trek playing a cow boy. She was having a really hard time talking then. I remember as she spoke she used hand gestures… the right side of her body seemed slower than the other. For lunch we ate bagels. She had hers dry. I thought it was odd, but she said that was how she wanted it. Later that evening I got a call, she was in the emergency room. She had been left alone. She ate another bagel and choked because the right side of her body was becoming paralyzed because of the brain tumor that they didn’t know about at the time. I’m just so scared that’s what might happen to Chloe. She’s already had an aneurysm. She’s missing a big chuck of her brain, and her ability to remember anything new because of the aneurysm. She’s a diabetic. She’s seventy something. Oh, and on top of that John, her husband, the eighty something year old Hungarian man spent Saturday wielding without the ventilation on so he inhaled all that crap and couldn’t breathe and his circulation went all to hell and he was all icy last night. Damn people, you couldn’t wait till I turned in my sociology and English papers, hun?
And argity, arg, arg, my computer is broken. The screen part of my lap top doesn't stay upright without a support because I broke the hinge. Grrrrr...
In an attempt to end on a happy note, Jake waltzed with me in the kitchen today and made my mom incredibly happy.
And lastly, lastly, I just gotta post this. She'd kill me. Heh. Chloe's angry face.
http://img2.photobucket.com/albums/v11/Kaythryn/chloe.jpg
This week has to go down in Kayt history as… the… really not fun week.
I’m really busy so I’ll skip the good stuff and school stuff and the little bads and go to the crappy part. Chloe is in the emergency room. She fell Saturday and busted up her lip, teeth, nose, and arm and has been talking really slowly and walking like she’s drunk these past few weeks. It makes me feel sick. On top of feeling scared for Chloe it freaks me out because this is just how it started when Nana got brain cancer. She sounded like she was drunk. Talked slowed, swayed when she walked. The last day she was pretty much normal I stayed with her. The doctors said she wasn’t supposed to be alone. We sat alone at my Aunt’s house all afternoon. She make dinner, spaghetti I think, and we watched art history programs and shows with that tattoo guy from star trek playing a cow boy. She was having a really hard time talking then. I remember as she spoke she used hand gestures… the right side of her body seemed slower than the other. For lunch we ate bagels. She had hers dry. I thought it was odd, but she said that was how she wanted it. Later that evening I got a call, she was in the emergency room. She had been left alone. She ate another bagel and choked because the right side of her body was becoming paralyzed because of the brain tumor that they didn’t know about at the time. I’m just so scared that’s what might happen to Chloe. She’s already had an aneurysm. She’s missing a big chuck of her brain, and her ability to remember anything new because of the aneurysm. She’s a diabetic. She’s seventy something. Oh, and on top of that John, her husband, the eighty something year old Hungarian man spent Saturday wielding without the ventilation on so he inhaled all that crap and couldn’t breathe and his circulation went all to hell and he was all icy last night. Damn people, you couldn’t wait till I turned in my sociology and English papers, hun?
And argity, arg, arg, my computer is broken. The screen part of my lap top doesn't stay upright without a support because I broke the hinge. Grrrrr...
In an attempt to end on a happy note, Jake waltzed with me in the kitchen today and made my mom incredibly happy.
And lastly, lastly, I just gotta post this. She'd kill me. Heh. Chloe's angry face.
http://img2.photobucket.com/albums/v11/Kaythryn/chloe.jpg
Saturday, February 14, 2004
Gimpy Gimpy Bo Bimpy...
I dreamt of a little black kitten with mismatched eyes and only three legs. I loved him and squeezed him and hugged him and called him Gimpy. I took him to the Columbus Shindig with me and he slept in the bathtub.
If only in my dreams…
Ah, and more about the Shindig. In theory it sounds like a great plan to spring the “can I go downtown alone and meet my internet lovers for three days of sci-fi craziness and all around incestuous orgies” when they’re a bit tipsy, but the flaw there is that the don’t freaking remember the next day that they said yes. Ah, hell. My mother and father looked up the address to the hotel we’re planning to stay at and are now concerned that it’s in a bad part of town for me to be running around in alone. So their solution?
Mom: Well I’ll just go with you. It’ll be a good excuse if you don’t like it there. You can say your overpowering lesbian girlfriend is making you go home. Oh! And we’ll take John and Kenny with us! Kenny can be… oh what’s the name… the prostitute…oh…. (I‘m sure she‘ll blend right in not knowing the characters names)
Twenty minutes later…
Mom: The Companion! That’s it! Kenny can be the companion and John can be little Jayne. They’ll be our body guards. (Point of interest, Kenny is the exact opposite of Inara except he does have long curly black hair, and John is an almost 80 year old Hungarian man.)
Me: We could… or you know… not.
28.5% downloaded and I bet you can’t guess what I’m gonna say… yeah, they cancelled Angel. And just as I was starting to get into it and know the characters names. Fuckwits. I also really like that word, fuckwits.
And this makes me want to scan in the writing I find on money... maybe all the reported Browncoat bills found.
http://keaggy.com/grocerylists/
If only in my dreams…
Ah, and more about the Shindig. In theory it sounds like a great plan to spring the “can I go downtown alone and meet my internet lovers for three days of sci-fi craziness and all around incestuous orgies” when they’re a bit tipsy, but the flaw there is that the don’t freaking remember the next day that they said yes. Ah, hell. My mother and father looked up the address to the hotel we’re planning to stay at and are now concerned that it’s in a bad part of town for me to be running around in alone. So their solution?
Mom: Well I’ll just go with you. It’ll be a good excuse if you don’t like it there. You can say your overpowering lesbian girlfriend is making you go home. Oh! And we’ll take John and Kenny with us! Kenny can be… oh what’s the name… the prostitute…oh…. (I‘m sure she‘ll blend right in not knowing the characters names)
Twenty minutes later…
Mom: The Companion! That’s it! Kenny can be the companion and John can be little Jayne. They’ll be our body guards. (Point of interest, Kenny is the exact opposite of Inara except he does have long curly black hair, and John is an almost 80 year old Hungarian man.)
Me: We could… or you know… not.
28.5% downloaded and I bet you can’t guess what I’m gonna say… yeah, they cancelled Angel. And just as I was starting to get into it and know the characters names. Fuckwits. I also really like that word, fuckwits.
And this makes me want to scan in the writing I find on money... maybe all the reported Browncoat bills found.
http://keaggy.com/grocerylists/
| Marriage is love. | |||||
Thursday, February 12, 2004
Yo, I have 9% of Angel: Season One downloaded.
Almost 9.1%
Just another week and I might be able to watch some of this... and then I'll find out that I've seen all of the eps from season one and have to wait another week for season two and it'll probably be in French or something else and then another week of downloading to find it in English and then it will be that someone labeled it wrong and it's really season one all over again and then there will just have to be bloodshed.
Or maybe not.
And maybe I'm alone on this but making this lady wink at me just too much fun.
http://www.alterfin.com/dominique/
It's rumored that she plans to ask the Wizard of Oz for a body someday.
I'm still not at 9.1%.
Almost 9.1%
Just another week and I might be able to watch some of this... and then I'll find out that I've seen all of the eps from season one and have to wait another week for season two and it'll probably be in French or something else and then another week of downloading to find it in English and then it will be that someone labeled it wrong and it's really season one all over again and then there will just have to be bloodshed.
Or maybe not.
And maybe I'm alone on this but making this lady wink at me just too much fun.
http://www.alterfin.com/dominique/
It's rumored that she plans to ask the Wizard of Oz for a body someday.
I'm still not at 9.1%.
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