lobsterchick's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Straight to Hell! Hey, what's up? I'm going straight to hell. I know what kind of petty bitch I come off as in the following entry, so just put a sock in it. First of all, I thought I was out of the woods as far as the headaches go, but I was mistaken. It's not as bad as it has been the last few days, but it definitely has knocked me on my ass. That said, I've been going to sleep early the past few nights and waking up early as a result. Today, I made what turned out to be a heinous heinous mistake, and called Deadsoon. He hadn't been feeling well yesterday, and I wanted to see how he was. It turns out, he's even worse, as evidenced by his moaned, "Hellloooooooo?" It sounded like the kind of voice a person puts on when they want to spend the day laying out and they call into work feigning sick. He decided early this time (thank GOD) to go to the hospital, but the wacky, zany part is, he wanted me to take him. But I didn't have a car, since it was still at the mechanic's, getting more work done on it than my grandchildren's grandchildren can ever hope to afford. So that left me to call BT, like, eight times. I knew she was sleeping, and I knew one set of rings before the voice mail kicked in wasn't going to do it, so I kept calling. And she woke up, agreed, and came and got me. She made me drive because she was tired, which was fine, and we zipped on down to get DS. Even though it was cold out, he had his window rolled down, which was fine with me. Every once in a while, he coughed weakly into the plastic bag I had brought, as if to vomit. That was cool with me, too, as long as I could stick my right finger in my right ear and hum the theme from Star Wars really loud. It was the moaning that got to me. Is that shit for real? Do people really moan in pain like that? I think the only time I've ever done it is to get attention and/or sympathy. This is the part where I come off super callous (fragilistic...yadda yadda yadda). Since my mechanic's is right by the hospital, I told him, "I'm dropping you off, BT is taking me to get my car so she can go home, and I'm coming back. If you're not in the waiting room, I'm going home." His response? "SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGH." BT is all, "You've never dropped him off at the hospital before, and left?" "I guess not." I mean, what the fuck? It's not enough that I took two hours out of my day to help him, when all I really wanted to do was sleep the headache off, now I have to sit in there with him and dote on him until the professional doters can get to it? Uh-uh. I came back and we sat in the waiting room for maybe five minutes before a seven-thousand-year-old volunteer came and took him to a room. She instructed him to take off his shirt and trousers, and I found that to be my cue to leave. This time, though, he seemed more okay with my leaving, and I told him to call me when he found anything out. I know, I know, World's Worst Friend. I don't care, though, I got to sleep for another two hours. 3:31 PM - 12 February 2004 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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