Oh, God. This again?

 
Headline Newz: Woman, Falling (Repeatedly)
If this were CNN’s news show for people with no time and/or short attention spans and I was Robin Meade, this would be a lot easier . . . and timely. And I’d be a lot prettier.

Friday afternoon, sometime between working and deciding if I could come up with any ‘blog material, I got a call from my mom’s friend, Mr. S. It seems that my mom was on the phone with a mutual friend of theirs, when she suddenly fell in her kitchen . . . dropping the phone and screaming in pain. Not knowing what else to do, the mutual friend called Mr. S who drove over to mom’s, repeatedly trying to call her on his cell phone. When he got there and found her on the floor of the kitchen, he called me at work. He gave me the above account and then said he’d call back when the EMTs arrived and they assessed the situation. So, of course, the next call from Mr. S was to tell me that she’d be going to the emergency room.

It may seem like I have a certain detachment from the situation, which I likely do. I’m not sure what to chalk that up to . . . perhaps having been there before, I’m really afraid of what comes next. I think I need to make her afraid, because there’s a lot that she can do to improve her condition.

Anyway, the Ms. Meade version is that nothing was broken, blah, blah, blah, mom’s more or less bed-ridden, blah, blah, blah, dosed on a nifty mix of vicodin and valium, yadda, yadda, yadda, there’s some guilt on my part that I haven’t been forcing her to lose more weight, blah, blah, blah, and I spent almost 24 hours with her after the ER visit to make sure she was okay and help out . . . but I totally bailed yesterday.

I’m not dealing with it well. I went over at lunch today (after Lifeline sent firemen to come help her get to the bathroom and back to bed) and read her the Riot Act. Yeah, so I have no bed-side manner. Where on this ‘blog does it say I’m a doctor?


In other news, Ray Charles sweeps the Grammys. Look, I don’t wanna seem disrespectful, but don’t you think the other nominees in his categories were pissed? Seriously, would he have won eight Grammys if he hadn’t died? I know, I’m already going to Hell (see above), so save it.

And watching cartoons with Mia Saturday morning, I heard something so dirty that I had to write it down. See if you agree. In Dragon Tales, one of the siblings says to the other: “I think my butter-frog is hungry for your pomegranate.” Dude, the context doesn’t matter. That is just dirrrty.
shaken and poured by Scott-san at 4:34 PM