We, the family, have a lot of wayward members of our clan returning next week for a reunion of sorts. A few people are going to stay with me since I have three beds. I almost panicked, but finally calmed down and started to get my house in tip top shake. I literally have been cleaning since 9 this morning. Posts may be kind of light and sporadic for a few days. I will do my best to drop in and say hello. Hell, I may even have some good stores to tell. Dad's side of the family are eccentric and odd.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Boy, did they work my knee and foot this morning. "Keep giving me ten more pulls," was what I heard a hundred times this morning. Then, they hooked me up to this electrical stimulus machine. I will just be nice and say it was certainly stimulating.
Mom sat in the lobby and read a book. Dad calls her our secretary. She takes care of all the little details like getting my appointments set up for next week.
"You ready to go?" mom asked as I walked into the lobby finished.
You could tell she was ready to drive home even if it had only been 45 minutes.
"Let's get a biscuit!" mom then said loudly on the drive home and pulled into McDonald's.
She turned abruptly enough and fast enough that I had to grab the "OH SHIT!" bar.
"Hunger Strikes!" I said loudly and both of us laughed.
I won't tell you what happened next because it was gross. Let's just say mom had an accident in the McDonald's bathroom. I was glad to get my two sausage biscuits though.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
I ate breakfast with Mrs. Jones and George again this morning. This is getting to be a regular thing every Sunday. She cooked poached eggs on toast with cheddar sprinkled on the top. I thought I had died and gone to heaven. She could make a dish rag taste good.
I left as George was taking his mother to church.
"I am coming over later," George told me.
"I hope you're sober," I mumbled under my breath.
The parental units should get home today. I restart therapy tomorrow after a week's break. I am apprehensive about it. The foot and knee are doing great though.
It rained yesterday. One big thunderous bulbous cloud parked over my house and let it all out. My only lament was that my grass would begin to grow again along with the need to mow it. I smiled when I went outside to make sure my car was locked and I heard cicadas singing and more thunder. It was the quintessential southern Saturday evening.
I am up late. Charlie brought McDonald's tonight. A Big Mac and fries to be specific. It did a number on my gastro intestinal system. Terrible heart burn I tell you. I am drinking whole milk which usually works for said ailment.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Charlie is my caretaker this week since dad and mom are in Birmingham with my sister. He is taking real good care of Maggie and I. Last night, he grilled burgers and dogs and brought me and Maggie some. The night before, his wife cooked a wonderful macaroni salad, pork loin, black eyed peas, and corn bread.
I noticed today that Maggie has not eaten her Purina One in weeks. I guess she is getting enough food from me. The little portly thing certainly hasn't lost any weight. But she isn't fat either so all is well.
Every day it is the same. The highlight of my day is getting my psychiatric medications. I used to hate to take them because I thought my family was trying to control my behavior with them.
Well, the two little yellow Klonopin are a Godsend. I am typically a nervous, jittery fellow normally. I take those pills and it is coolsville.
Friday, August 14, 2009
The funniest thing just happened. I was driving George's car and we had just come from my father's pharmacy. I was getting some cokes. As we were coming up through the Valley, I passed KFC.
"You gotta watch out for those KFC customers," George told me telling me to be careful. "Dey got chicken on the brain."
I roared with laughter. George couldn't figure out what was so funny about it. I guess you had to be there as well.
My sister gave birth to a beautiful baby boy yesterday. I was beginning to worry we weren't going to have any boy grandchildren in the family. Dad called me and was so excited.
"He's just beautiful," he said over the phone. "Your sister is fine."
My main concern was my sister. Despite being a doctor she is delicate and frail. Almost waif like.
George has developed a routine every morning. It reminds me of the crusty old tomcat that prowls our yards late in the evening every day. As soon as he gets off work in the morning, he heads south from LaGrange back to the valley. Mrs. Jones has him a big breakfast ready. Must be nice. Soon, he heads out to prowl his territory after eating.
"Pookie is getting out of county jail soon," George told me this morning.
"OH JOY!" is what I thought comically in my mind. "More debauchery for George."
George left my house to head to another neighborhood. A neighborhood known to be a place to hang out and sip the suds.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
George came by about the time I was eating breakfast. A strawberry Poptart and a glass of milk.
"What is in the flask?" I asked him as he kept imbibing.
"Rum," George said with a big toothy grin. "Want some?"
It was the closest I had come to drinking in the past few years. In my mind I could feel the warmness of the alcohol coursing through my veins. The numbness in my hands and the urge to sleep away the day. Alcohol is the great escape.
George was also the bringer of mixed news. Mixed in that I didn't know what to make of it.
"That ex-girlfriend of yours has moved to Atlanta to live with her daughter," George told me. "Ferret told me this morning."
A pang of longing for Rosa shot out through my heart. I miss her much of the time. Can't cry over spilt milk, though.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Sometimes little gifts are bestowed upon us and it is best to always remember them later to give in return and to say, "Thank you."
Mom had asked me about changing the oil in my car yesterday. Now follow me closely in that me getting an oil change is a gargantuan feat. It takes a carefully orchestrated ordeal to get my car out to AMAC and get this done. I can't pay for them.
"When was the last time you had your oil changed?" Mom asked yesterday.
"The week my stolen car was returned to me by the police," I told her.
"That's been two years!" mom exclaimed.
Well, dearest mom followed me out there this morning and I have an oil pan of clean, fresh oil now. I'm not too worried about engine damage since I've driven less than one thousand miles in those two years. It is nice to have peace of mind though. That is the only car I am going to have for the foreseeable future. Thank you mom. I love you.
Monday, August 10, 2009
I drove over for my cokes this morning. On dad's bedside table was a bottle of Barcardi rum. Half empty. "No," I said. "It couldn't be him." Still, it worried me.
Mom was asleep in the bed as the new alarm service was installing an alarm. The house was wide open to anybody who wanted to take anything. It was all rather strange.
"He's at work."
"She had a doctor's appointment."
Cary, the alarm guy was busily whistling a tune under the house as he strung wire.
"Mom, I'm going to ask you something and please don't get defensive. I honestly want to know."
"Okay," mom said looking at me warily.
"Do you actually sleep all this time in the bed? Do you daydream? Do you just dream if you sleep?"
"I actually sleep most of the time," mom said. "I take 3 Xanax at night and have become accustomed to sleeping in the day."
That answered one mystery except my parent's house was full of mysteries that went unanswered this morning.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
I ate breakfast with George and his mom this morning. Mrs. Jones had prepared a hashbrown casserole and fried bacon.
"Why do black people in the South go to church so long?" I asked Mrs. Jones.
Main service can often last for 3 hours or more.
"They didn't have anything better to do back then," she said with a smile. "Some things just stay the same even after time."
I left George's house and headed to mom and dad's a few blocks over. I needed to get my daily allotment of caffeine. Dad and Charlie were eating a McDonald's breakfast on the back deck. Dad looked like he had been playing in the dirt he was so dirty from yard work. Charlie offered up the idea that I do physical therapy when dad comes every night with my medications. I have some of the resistance bands at home.
"I don't know," I said apprehensively.
"You about fell walking up the steps," dad quipped.
"We'll give a try I guess," I finally muttered with little zeal.
Maggie's in the bed today. I guess it's just one of those dog days of summer best slept away. If I could sleep, then I would be in the bed with her. She looks so comfortable.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
I can't go to mom's because she needs her sleep. Dad works all the time. And George has been obsessively drunk these days (and still managing to keep his job).
I was doing so well on my Coureg CR 50 mg. I took a turn for the worse this weekend. I've barely been out of the house. Physical therapy is turning out to be than I can handle. 3 times a week and I struggle to get there.
"I am going with you next week," mom told me to make sure I go. "You need to go for your leg to heal and for the nerve to get better."
I guess I've kind of had the funks lately. Not wanting to do anything that interests me. A week went by without me turning on this computer.
Maggie's laying on the bed. She's as happy as a clam. Helen cooked center cut pork chops yesterday and they were delicious. It really helps having someone else whose human in the house.
Oh, I got a postcard from Cheryl at Myrtle Beach. Thank You! I so needed that the other day. To feel connected to my blog friends again.