Me: I'm so glad to not be in the hospital, so I'm not constantly having everything poking me, and being tested for everything.
My mother: Good morning. (Pulls out a sleeve of medical supplies) Time to test your blood pressure, blood sugar, pulse, and breathing rate.
Me: Oh, this is still happening.
My mother: This is definitely still happening.
According to my first nurse, she knew she was going to like me based on a story she heard from one of the med techs on the helicopter.
Apparently, when they asked me some questions trying to orient me, I massively failed to recognize what was happening around me.
The only think I kept saying (over the sound of the helicopter blades whirring) was "I fucken hate Goodnight Saigon!"
All week long, my very southern nurses have been asking me about my "wife and/or kids". I chose only to talk about my cats.
Tonight, nursing student Tank Handsome came in to get updated on my case:
Me: I am sorry. I don't remember meeting you.
TH: You were pretty wasted.
Me: I hope I wasn't too embarrassing.
TH: You were fairly naked.
Me: That's usually second date material.
TH: You were very aggressive for an unconscious guy.
I still got moves, even when I'm immobile.
At some point last week oh, I felt very ill. I thought I had the flu, I thought I had heart problems, I knew something was wrong but not what.
At some point my mother came to pick me up to take me in to see the doctor. I don't remember any of this part. At some point my mother was worried enough that she called and had me medivacced to the facility where I am now.
I did not arrive alive but was brought back and put in a medically-induced coma for five days. My first real memory after that was during the Super Bowl which seem really long and boring even for someone just getting out of a medically-induced coma. The next two days I barely remember. I have visions and an incorrect set of memories but then nothing until Tuesday which I remember as being the second worst day of my life.
Yesterday, I cried because I was able to stand with a walker. Today, I am allowed to eat real food again. Affirmations have never been my strength. I have just been downgraded from critical to...not critical? Which we all know is shit. I am, and always will be critical.
Now that I can use my phone again, I will post of my mundane new life. Today's favorite being the dietician who said she wasn't sure if toast would be healthy enough for breakfast, as she handed me a Rice Krispies Treat.
With all the badness of this month, so far, I need to give credit to the people my dad forgot were looking after his mom.
When he got to the house, he said there was paperwork everywhere, and several personal items were missing.
When her husband died thirteen years ago, the people who were supposed to be taking care of him had pilfered some paintings and books (none of them actually valuable), so my dad was heartbroken that they had taken precisely the things my grandmother valued: her old radio, her favorite clothes, her record player, etc.
But they weren't stolen. My grandmother was in a nursing home for less than a day, but for that day, the wonderful people looking after her made sure she was surrounded with as many familiar things as possible.
And that paperwork? All the bills they helped her keep track of and pay for the last several months when she couldn't keep track of her own thoughts.
I'm really grateful to those people, only one of whom I even know, for making her last few months as comfortable as possible.
Continuing decades of absolutely terrible communication skills, my dad calls to tell me he's picking up his mother.
Me: "Oh, she's going to live with you now?"
Dad: "Nah. I'm picking her up from the morgue."
Me: "What happened?"
Dad: "She died."
Me: "How?" She was 95, so probably not skydiving or in a bank heist.
Dad: "I don't know. No one will tell me. But the cops just showed up to let me know she's dead. None of her caretakers are answering their phones. So I'm going to Connecticut tomorrow. I have no idea what I need to do. I guess I'll call you when I get there."
Me: "Ok. Let me know if there is anything I can do."
Dad: "Talk to you later."
2019 can suck a bag of porcupines.
The guy used a fake pic (obviously), lied about his age (which was unnecessary, he wasn in his 40s, not his 90s), and spent almost the entire time texting other people on his phone.
SuperBore: "Do you have any gum?"
SB: "I like to blow bubbles. It turns me on."
SB: "Do you have any fetishes?"
Me: "Not really. But I'm open to others'."
SB: "I like to have my feet rubbed. It turns me on."
Me: "So your ideal night is chewing gum during a pedicure?"
Me: "Because you like gum and having your feet rubbed."
HELLA LONG HORRIBLE SILENCE.
Me: "I see you're wearing a PGA shirt, do you work at a golf course?"
SB: "No. I just went to an event for work. It was fun."
Me: "What did you do?"
SB: "Stood around and watched people golf."
HELLA LONG HORRIBLE SILENCE.
Me: "Well, you said you wanted to hang out in the hot tub. Want to jump in?"
SB: "I didn't bring a bathing suit."
Me: "I see. Well, do you want to grab lunch, or go somewhere?"
SB: "I like hanging out here." Texting on my phone while not contributing to the conversation.
Me: "What do you do for fun?"
SB: "I go to the parks."
Me: "Which one is your favorite?"
SB: "Lands of Adventure. Animal Kingdom. Epcot."
Me: "What's your favorite part of Epcot?" I asked a grown fucken man texting on his phone.
AWKWARD HORRIBLE SILENCE.
Me: "What time are you meeting your friend?"
SB: "Five thirty?"
Me: "Is it a long drive to get there?"
AWKWARD HORRIBLE SILENCE.
SB: "I guess it's an hour."
Me: "Who are you texting?"
Me: "Well, as fun as this is..."
SB: "Do you read?"
Me: "Yes. Do you?"
SB: "I used to. Now I only do it for work."
Me: "Who did you used to read?"
SB: "Stephen King."
Me: "Oh, I did an in-depth reading of The Dark Tower chronology last year." I spend about two minutes talking about the Stephen King project, with occasional pauses, hoping he'll have something interesting to say.
SB: "I didn't read those."
Me: "What did you read?" Obviously not social cues.
SB: "I don't know. I think I'm going to go pack to meet my friend."
Me: "I bet she's looking forward to seeing you."
SB: "She is a lot of fun."
Me: "I bet."
Rando on Grindr: "Hey. How are you?"
Me: "Good thanks. You?"
Me: "Do you have a face pic?"
RoG: "Sorry. I'm straight."
Me: "You're a straight guy messaging people on Grindr?"
RoG: "I run a naked gromming" (sic) "business. I meet my clients here. I thought you were someone else."
Me: "You're a straight guy who runs a naked grooming service messaging random gay guys on Grindr, but pointing out that you're straight?"
RoG: "Yes. It is a straight gromming service."
Me: "Grooming or gromming? Is gromming one of those straight things that gay people don't know about?"
RoG: "Gromming. Like hair and nails."
Me: "For pets?"
RoG: "Only for straight."
Me: "Only for straight pets? That seems like an arbitrarily homophobic policy. But gay guys can bring their straight pets in to be grommed by a naked straight guy? I think I need to contact the authorities about this. None of it sounds legal."
Then he blocked me.
As I mentioned in a poem earlier this year "I deleted all my dating apps for good. I don't mean forever."
Well, I reopened the worst of them, Grindr, when I got down here, and events played out as they do. Today, I avoided the app, and nobody sent any messages, and I got some work done.
When I went into the store to buy a new phone, the people working were super helpful. I got the phone I wanted for super cheap, I now have a Florida number (on my old phone) AND my usual number (on my new phone), until my plan runs out, at which point the Florida number will disappear.
While they transferred all of my contacts, texts, pics, etc from my old phone to the new one, Grindr exploded. And I forgot to turn off push notifications, so I kept seeing "(grindr logo) You have a new message!" "(grindr logo) You have been tapped!" "(grindr logo) You have a new message!" over and over and over.
Short story short,I stayed until just before closing and grabbed drinks with the guy from the cell phone store.
Me: "I guess it's time to get more packing done."
Gooseface Killah: "I believe if you check the time, it's pet a Motherfucker o'clock."
Me: "Sorry, cat. I have work to do."
Goose Villanch: "Before you go, I believe it's time we discussed your lord and savior, my belly. If you do not rub it, it will strike you down."
Me: "Cat, give me some space. You are totally Selinaing right now."
Tougoose-Lautrec: "I did not give you permission to slander me in such a way. I shall now follow you around the house, jumping in every box you create."
Me: "Cat. You are In My Way."
Goosetina Aguilera: "What a goose wants, what a goose needs, Whatever makes me happy and WHY ARE YOU CLOSING THE BOX ON ME."
Me: "Now you're a genie in a bottle, kitten."
Box shuffles back and forth on the floor.
Goose Bigalow, Cat Jiggle-o: "Please let me out of this box. Please?"
Me: "Only if you grant me wishes, you hyperactive dust mop."
Punky Gooster: "Please?"