Thursday, November 03, 2005

Is it Wrong to Threaten the Life of a Bedridden Drunk?

Well, my sister's Zen place pretty much ended today. She had to be readmitted to the hospital after a mere 12 hours home with complications from the surgery that was a procedure that she was not expecting and not what she went in for. She's in a pretty bad way and they are doing tests. She made me promise today to not let her die in a hospital, which I did, and am making sure that it gets put in writing so no one can stop me from wheeling her out whenever that comes to pass. I can just see sneaking her out in the middle of the night and taking her to the beach - except that would be too much like the end of "What Ever Happened to Baby Jane" and there are no beaches in St. Louis, Missouri.

The Southern Belle that makes all fabulous Southern Belles look tawdry and awful that had been placed in the other bed in my sister's room has a nice nurses tech to thank for me not ending her life dramatically today. Basically she is there because she is a life long drunk (and as a former dipsomaniac I have absolutely no problem blasting my kind into the next universe) that developed pancreatic cysts. The doctor came in and told her she would be just fine and dandy, and that all she needed to do was to stop drinking. My sister listened to this and it was at that moment that she lost her Zen place. This same fine example of womanhood asked me in her gravelly permanently slurring way what my sister was in for. I said, "pancreatic cancer." She says, and I quote, "Oh my, I just have pancreatic cysts - thank God I don't have cancer, that would be bad."

I went outside to the wonderful and adorable nurses tech who shall be named Steve for this little report, and asked him if he knew what my sister's diagnosis was. He didn't. I told him, then I told him what the horrible creature in the next bed was all about and that I was about to smother her with her own pillow. He said, "Oh no, she did NOT say that - okay, we'll see about moving your sister." I gushed my thanks and she was moved in an hour. God bless Steve. The rest of the staff has been even sweeter to her since then, and they were already before. I bought them all a big box of chocolates.

I go back to L.A. for a week break on Saturday, and will more than likely spend the week on the couch with my dog children and Manpants, staring at the wall. I really need to process all of this.

Thank you to all of you who have been reading these blatherings of mine and leaving wonderful comments of strength and support. You have no idea how grateful I am for that when I am so far away from my usual support system.

And yes, I'm going to go smoke now.

7 Comments:

Anonymous Dear Heart said...

Just read the last posts, Dear Wone, and had myself a good hearty sobfest.
Smoking...doesn't that cause cancer? That would be a very, very bad thing, Miz Frastley.
I was disturbed to learn of the ways your pater has been dealing with your lovely sister's situation. He is in the position of losing a daughter, and that can't be a nice feeling. It would perhaps be easier for you to be a sister, and your Mom to be a mother, without your Dad blowing his top every five seconds. That is his *style* and therefore, in some perverse way, it is what you have grown accustomed to dealing with. He's just doing his job, hon.
How is your Mother dealing with all this?
Please give your sister a hug from me, and licks from the puggies, and let her know that she is loved.

04 November, 2005 01:17  
Blogger Tracey said...

Virtual hugs and warm wishes being sent your way, Mil. And many kudos for not going ninja on the insensitive b!tch in the bed next to your sister's. Good for you on getting the adorible tech to move her to a more hospitable location.

I hope that Manpants and the dogchildren (I have one of my own) bring you some comfort next week. I recommend lots of hugs and lots of puppykisses to try and help restore the soul...and always remember that you have a whole host of interneters sending good thoughts you and yours' way. Hang in there, Mil!

04 November, 2005 08:57  
Blogger R said...

God you have class. When a nurse came in and told my grandfather (who had lukemia. who fought in WWII. who raised five girls by his self) that she was there to "change his diaper" I went nuclear. I mean NUCLEAR honey. You are so blessed to have such a caring staff around your sister. Hang in there girl. And take that damn cig out of your mouth!

04 November, 2005 11:37  
Blogger Seamus said...

You are a far better person than me Millie - I do believe I'd have knock that Magnolia into her her next plane.
TG for the sensitive staff.
Take care of yourself through all this. Know that your sister, you and your family are in our thoughts!

05 November, 2005 08:03  
Blogger ~Betsy said...

You were good to get your sister out of there. Ms. Magnolia Drunk will have to suck the hope out of some other poor patient now. Maybe they'll sedate her...

Remember how *good* strenuous exercise feels when you're stressed out? You need to get back to spinning class, and shortly after, you won't be attracted to the cigs, and you'll have new energy to sort through your feelings.

You will find strength you never knew you had. Hang in there, Mil. And HUG Manpants and those canine friends -- hard!

05 November, 2005 15:16  
Blogger Laura said...

Yay for Steve, and yay for you for enlisting Steve's help. That southern belle sounds brain damaged, so yeah, I guess smothering her would be considered some sort of hate crime against the mentally disabled. Glad you didn't go there. I'm continuing to send your sister and the rest of you good thoughts.

07 November, 2005 05:46  
Blogger Catharine said...

Those of us with really poor impulse control salute for not committing instant (justifiable!) homicide.

Have a nice week off here at home.

~C~

08 November, 2005 10:18  

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