I’d like to thank all of you for your comments and emails this week. I wish I could thank each of your personally for bringing a smile to my face but there aren’t enough hours in the day and this in and of itself is a huge testament to how supportive the Internet can be. Your thoughts and words of encouragement have been the highlights of what has essentially been a festival of shit this week.
And all of you spammers who sent me Viagra coupons and offers to enlarge my penis and rock my girlfriend’s world? You guys have got to learn how to use spell check. I’m not going to take you seriously if you can’t spell the word “orgasm” correctly. And if I had a girlfriend, I’d bet she’d feel the same way because I only hook up with really smart people. The first thirty years of my life notwithstanding.
My dad is hanging in there. I won’t bother giving a play by play of the roller coaster we’ve ridden this week but suffice it to say that carotid artery surgery, hematomas, strokes, aspirating on vomit, pneumonia and ventilators suck big, fat, staph-infected orangutan balls.
As of last night, he was coming off of sedation. He blinked on command and moved his hand and both his feet which was very encouraging. We hope he can come off the ventilator today so that they can start conducting a neurological exam to determine the extent of the damage from the stroke. I suggested to the doctors that they ask my dad a simple question like Is it true that if F(X) is an antiderivative of f(x) and c is any constant, then F(x) + c is also an antiderivative of f(x)? They could assess his analytical prowess and help my sixteen year old with her homework at the same time. It would be a win/win! They suggested we start with something like “Is your name Peter?”
Way to set the bar low, guys.
My brother Tino is down here with me. So all you single ladies living in North Carolina, here’s your chance! And no worries of my mother hovering in the background, yelling FOR GOD’S SAKE, JUST MARRY ONE OF THEM ALREADY as she’s got a lot on her mind these days and can’t plan a wedding at the moment.
Some highlights of this past week:
- Tino and I got lost on our way from the airport to our parents’ house, proving once again that I have no earthly business navigating, be it by map, GPS, someone hollering WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THE EXIT WAS “BACK THERE,” or the northern star.
- My mother had Nutella waiting for me in her pantry. I almost wept with joy. She said she tried to get me Anderson Cooper but apparently he’s not taking her calls either. At the risk of sounding rude, Anderson … Whiskey, Tango, Foxtrot? Pardon my French.
- We brought the day shift and night shift nurses boxes of candy because they are full of awesome. The nurses, not the boxes of candy, although candy is pretty awesome but nowhere near the level of nurses. I think nurses ought to get their own holiday. And parking spaces.
- I was forced to venture into a Walmart down here and for the first time in my life, I did not feel the urge to douse myself in Purell from head to toe. The Walmarts down here are actually nice! And clean! And make me want to use exclamation points! And I’m not just talking about the employees! Not sure why the south has such a distinct advantage over the north when it comes to Walmart? Maybe it’s God’s way of compensating them for that whole Civil War thing.
- Actually, everyone down here is incredibly friendly. It’s like North Carolinians are on a perpetual endorphin rush. I’ll have whatever they’re having.
- My sixteen year old decided that this would be the perfect time to let her brain fall out of her head and make some pretty stupid choices. Nothing like coming home from the hospital at 9:00 at night only to charge up your cell phone so that you can use a good chunk of your minutes to discipline your teenager from 800 miles away, all while having your twin brother stand behind you, reminding you of that time when you were sixteen and your own brain did a free fall out of your head and crashed to the floor and exploded into a million pieces. SHUT UP TINO, YOU ARE NOT HELPING.
Before I leave, one word of advice. Please, please, please, for the love of white garlic pizza, tell someone where your original wills and powers of attorney are hidden. It may come as a surprise but it is entirely possible for a person to experience the whole spectrum of human emotion 582 times in one morning, leading her to seriously consider having a bank drill through a safety deposit box to the tune of $150 even though she knows nothing is in there but at least it’s doing something other than standing in an office and yelling to no one in particular JESUS CHRIST IN BIRKENSTOCKS, WHERE THE HELL ARE THEY?