Yesterday when I woke up all I could think was....urrrrr.rrrrr....rrrr...kind of like a car with a dead battery. But this is because yesterday was Friday and the day of the week I am required, for work, to be alive at four a.m. Yeah. So I felt lucky my brain even managed the urrrrr...rrrr....rrrr...of attempted start up.
Suffice it to say, I ended up leaving work after only 2 and a half hours because Jon's dad was in the hospital (his mom had left a very uninformative voice mail leaving out the where and the why) and no one would answer their phones. So, knowing Jon's dad has several self-inflicted health issues, I figured this could be quite serious and left work to go with Jon to find out what in the hell was really going on.
Long story short, the doctors don't seem to know. However, I and Jon and the doctors really believe it still has something to do with his heart even though the blood work says otherwise and the stress test says otherwise. I am pretty sure he had a mild heart attack. Which is the stupidest term ever. Mild. Heart. Attack. Just considering his weight, his lack of physical activity, his poor diet, his diabetes, his being on blood thinners and insulin and all manner of things....I think he's lucky to be alive. I am not House, M.D, and clearly neither were the docs at Botsford....nor were they particularly interested in anything other than discharging him once they ascertained the diagnosis of "Um, yeah, none of us knows." Jon's dad had 6 different doctors most of whom were residents and all of them had differing opinions.
I think the fact that they had him hooked to a nitroglycerin drip, fluids, a blood thinner and were giving him shots of morphine probably speaks volumes.
I also hope this scares him shitless into behaving himself and not eating three bags of potato chips for lunch...and downing soda after soda even though his diabetes says otherwise. But, I doubt it and I figure we are in for more of these horrible hospital experiences.
I am glad yesterday is over.
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At the moment, I am sitting here marinating in my friend Crystal's homemade yummy smelling lotion after I used her yummy smelling homemade sugar scrub on my face. I'm at the age, I guess, where my face enjoys a good soak in oil. I used to have so many issues with oil, I had to wash my face three times a day. And I had horrible acne. However, my oily teen and early 20s years apparently were oddly kind to my skin as I approach my (dare I even think this?) 40s. But now I need to marinate once in a while.
I just soaked my bleached and dry hair in more manic panic...Virgin Snow this time...which is basically a very very very light purple meant as a toner but my hair is so light at the moment it did leave a purple tint behind. It makes my hair feel less dry. I just wish my work was cool with any color hair I feel comfortable wearing. But, alas, corporations suck monkey balls. My boss is cool with it. His boss? I don't know. The man is a tool.
My friend Courtney is having a very terrifying 80s party tonight. I'm sure it will be fun, but listening to 80s music sounds about as fun as shoving my hand into a garbage disposal. I already was forced to live through it once, being as I was a kid then, I see no need for a repeat.
The Pixies--Caribou--the type of 80s music I love...which is completely at odds with every other brand of 80s music.
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