WARNING: Dark and Twisty ahead.
OK so bright and shiny didn't last very long. Frequency, intensity, duration, that's what Sunshine and Happiness always says. The dark and twisty isn't as frequent, it's not as intense and it doesn't last as long with scattered periods of bright and shiny in between. Some days are only slightly dark and twisty with a large dose of bright and shiny. On rare occasions it is completely bright and shiny. Some days though not so much.
My mom who is 67 broke her leg on Sunday. Ouchy. This is not good news as my father, age 69, is having a hip replacement the first week in August. Neither of my parents drive and must walk EVERYWHERE so I am sad to see them hobbled.
Especially sad because I am the family wheels and as we all know
I am unable to give freely. Mix in my awe inspiring driving skills and
voila', a recipe for disaster. Let me paint the picture for you.
I only learned to drive when I was 30, that's right, 30 years old. I cannot park to save my life and am
impossible if unfamiliar with the route. Ask me about how for years I drove only the bus routes to get to where I was going because I knew them by heart (you know because I had to ride buses my entire life) until one day a flabbergasted passenger said in exasperation,"
you do know there is a shorter way to get there from here." I can't use a GPS because it's too dangerous (for me) to attempt two things at one time. Upon buying my first car there was always a scraper and a rag in the front seat for when the windshield fogged up or froze ON THE INSIDE because I didn't know about defrost. Finally there's my complete lack of spacial awareness so my current car which has lasted 11 years looks as if it has participated in the annual school bus demolition at the Big Butler Fair. When Sunshine and Happiness drives, if I am along for the ride and she happens upon a median barrier (on either side of the car), I will wildly shout "WALL!" until she changes lanes so certain am I that we are going to whack into it, crash and burn. But I digress.
We took my mom to the doctor to be xrayed after she fell and turns out her tibia is fractured and she will be in a walking cast for awhile. Now my parents are really good hearted people, I love them and it's nice to be able to help but I'm having repercussions from being with them twice this week. Most of my squirreliness comes from the fact that
my mother is
crazy. Not batshit crazy but more "I'm so anxious all the time I can't help acting like a loon" crazy. The doctor's appointment was scheduled in a building located right next to the hospital and we weren't
exactly sure where but we knew we'd find it. My mom however, was a nervous wreck (and in pain) and so talked the entire trip. This wouldn't have been so bad if she didn't constantly talk about people we don't know, have never met and can not possibly know no matter how much she may insist otherwise. It's been about 25 years since I've lived at home and S&H has
never lived in Greenfield so I don't know what she is thinking. In her world if she continues to give us excrutiatingly minute details we will suddenly, magically know exactly who she means. This is what it's like
My Mom: "I just saw Karen. You know, Karen whose daughter is in a wheelchair. She waits for the bus at the corner of Kaercher Street."
Me: "No mom, I don't know her."
My Mom: "Sure you do, she's related to, what's that girl's name you went to the 8th grade with who has the bright red hair?"
Me: "Lisa Yourick?"
My Mom: "Yeah her. She's Karen's third cousin twice removed. Or is it once? Remember I used to babysit them both?"
Me: "Nope, still not ringing any bells."
My Mom: "Yeah, yeah you do. We used to see her down at the swimming pool when you swam for swim team." (when I was 12!)
Me: (exasperatedly rolling my eyes at S&H) "Oh
yeah, now I do. I don't know what I was thinking. I remember her now."
You get the idea.
As we approached the hospital we were still unsure of the exact location of the appointment so we stopped a woman in scrubs crossing the street who obviously worked at the hospital. My mom rolled down the window and asked "where is 1350 Locust Street?" The woman pointed it out but instead of thanking her my mom began arguing that she wasn't right and that 1350 was the building on the right end of the street not the one in the middle. Then this poor woman, who didn't know us from Adam and was only looking for a cigarette and some lunch, got to hear about why we needed to know
exactly where 1350 Locust was because my mom had broken her leg, couldn't walk up steps and absolutely had to have an elevator. She would have proceeded on with every small detail of the accident if S&H hadn't pulled the car away with my mom mid-sentence. As we drove off the woman in scrubs shot us a look of relief and I bit right through my lip.
Inside the hospital, my mom felt the need to explain to
- the guy at the information desk
- two elevators full of people
- the patients in the waiting room
- the receptionist and
- the homeless man on the corner
about how she had stepped in a hole, fell down, and could not, just could not, get back up. Thank the Lord Joe Brown, a neighbor on Windsor Street was home and heard her cries for help, picked her up and drove her to the house because she had no idea how she was gonna crawl home. You know Joe. You went to elementary school with his daughter.
It's a good thing my Dad is a quiet man.
Anyway, after getting the entire geneology of Greenfield, we finally got her home and settled. Now she's making herself crazy worrying about how she's going to get her boot off and on while making sure she fills it with just the right amount of air from that little button pump, cause you
know, Jim Gregg, your brother Mark's old basketball coach had the same kind of walking cast and
he had trouble with it. We left her still talking as we jumped in the car and left.
My poor mom. It makes me sad that she is so neurotic. I'm just grateful to be nothing at all like her. Ahem. Now if you'll excuse me I'm going to go jump off a bridge.
