Wednesday, July 13, 2005

We Interrupt This Interruption ... Whatever.

So, that's that. After a lifetime of living, my grandmother is not so much doing that anymore. And, after a nighttime of drinking, I'm not so much feeling my fingertips anymore. (Fine, this is not exactly true, I'm just now working on my second, but it's good to have goals.) Anyhow ...

We interrupt this soon-to-be-drunken rambling to drop this little hint off to Medical Personnel Who Are In The Process of Telling People That They Can Cross One Name Off Next Year's Reunion Guest List: Either turn your cell phone off, or switch it to vibrate mode, especially if your ringtone is set to La Cucaracha. No, not even if the scrawny little chick in front of you is struggling to keep from laughing, it's still not a good idea. Really.

We further interrupt this getting-steadily-drunker rambling to warn certain home-health care givers who refused to change a certain scrawny little chick's scrawny little grandma's soiled undergarments because "I'm busy!" that that same certain scrawny little chick KNOWS WHERE YOU LIVE.

There will be no more interruptions, firstly because the word 'interruptions' is rather difficult to type when one has scrawny as well as numb fingertips, and secondly because the interruptions have now become the entire drunken rambling. So, to the nurses and misc. staff at the nursing home that the above mentioned scrawny grandmother was transferred to just about 5 minutes before there was one less incredibly busy home-health caregiver left in the world, and to the EMTs who drove her to the nursing home ... thank you for not being busy, and for calling her by her first name, and for announcing that "We're going over a bump!" and for allowing me to ride in the ambulance with her, and for not pointing and laughing when I wandered out of her room at 3 in the morning in my polar bear pajama pants, and instead asking me if I wanted to sit and watch Will and Grace with you till I was able to sleep again (which actually never happened, but you know what I mean.)

Thank you for giving her pain meds whenever the fuck she wanted them, and thank you for apologizing to her when you had to move her and it hurt, and thank you for not being asshole shitbags who kicked her out of the unit because you got tired of her, (I STILL KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE, AND IF YOU'RE READING THIS, YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE), and also thank you for cleaning her face and pretending that you just now discovered that she was gone, when my mother walked in from the visiting the bathroom, even though you had already called me 5 minutes ago and asked me NOT to tell her so she could hear the news from a human rather than a voice over the phone.

Once I find my fingers, and the phone, again, I'm SO inviting the lot of you out for beer.

(For everybody else, I'll be taking a brief hiatus, and will be back ... later. We can discuss the beer, and the invitations to partake of, then.)


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