today.
2007-04-17 - 11:31 p.m.
Today was weird. We had a surprise party for my dad - a bunch of his old work buddies put it together. Prolly 70 people were there. My dad showed up, was surpised, overwhelmed, sad, happy, and exhausted. He cried and said hi to everybody and cried some more and then, when he walked around - just a short walk, for about two minutes - to say goodbye (after only being there an hour), he had to sit down because he became so winded. So, we got him home. Called the doc. They told us to go straight to the ER. We did. I missed class again. I don't care. They gave him fluids and it helped to perk him back up. He was laughing again and still in awe of the surprise party and he even graded my coloring project that I did in the ER. I got an A+. Now, he is admitted again. In the EXACT SAME ROOM from last time. Eerie. Shit. is that how you spell eerie? errie. no. it must be eerie. hell if i know right now. anyway, i digress. so, my dad got back on "his unit" (all the nurses and PCAs remembered him and welcomed him lovingly) and we got him settled in. we're hoping to get more fluids and nutrition in him and hope to get him back home soon.
so, it was a happy and a sad and a happy and a weird ass day. and, embarassing as well. imagine - calling your favorite prof. the one who dresses professionally every damn day and always looks great and is real smart and is just someone you look up to. you gotta call her to tell her that you'll miss her class. and that you're sending your paper and assignments via email. and then, you break down. turning into a slobby, crying mess on the voice mail message - talking about how you're sorry and you'd much rather be in class than have to do this stuff, blah, blah, blah... great. professionalism = out the door. hopefully, within the next year or so, i will have one day where i do not cry at all. even in the shower, where no one can see you and you're not even sure if you're crying or not because, well, everything is wet and hot in there. MINDS. OUTTA. THE. GUTTER. NOW.
