It seems like every time we go on a vacation, everything falls apart around here. I’m fucking sick of it. Mrs. Skeezix, the little one and I bugged out Sunday, for a few days of fun and sun. Admittedly, we can have the same here at home, but we find it theraputic to get the hell out of Dodge every once in a while.
So, upon our return Wednesday, we learned that:
My good buddy (and next door neighbor) ended up in the hospital Sunday night. Seems an old problem of his (resulting from surgery he had years ago) reared its ugly head, and did its damned best to kill him. He’s okay, now, but the whole thing scared the shit out of his wife and two-year-old son. The little guy could have stayed with us while mom n’ dad trucked off to the ER, had we been home, instead of hanging around listening to his father moaning and groaning until his grandmother could make it to the hospital to get him out of there.
An old friend of the family died, suddenly and unexpectedly. He suffered from Alzheimer’s, but physically, he wasn’t in dire condition. Or at least, we didn’t think he was. No idea what actually happened yet. Mrs. Skeezix and her dad rode up to the assisted living home (he’d been living there for about 6 months, as his mental condition made it harder and harder for his elderly wife to take care of him by herself) to pick up his wife, as she was in no shape to drive. When they walked into the room, they discovered that he was still in his bed. Neither of them was quite ready to see him like that, let alone expecting to do so.
Mrs. Skeezix’s grandfather underwent some sort of medical procedure concerning his heart. Basically, I think he had to get blasted with the crash cart paddles to correct cardiac arrythmia, or something along those lines.
My particular digestive problem has decided that with all this going on, it felt left out, and scheduled a return appearance, without consulting me.
I may never leave this fucking house again.
[sub]Yeah, I know, pity party. I’m just sick of shit like this going on every time we take a long weekend off.[/sub]
My wife and I once told our doctor that he wasn’t allowed to take vacations, because it seemed like every time he left town she would get a foot infection or fall down the stairs or something.
Libertarian: Sometimes that’s exactly how it feels. I wanna find the butterfly responsible for alla this and pin his snarky little ass to a corkboard. Of course, the butterfly causing the effect around here seems to be me, so unless I do glue myself down, that could be tricky.
LurkMeister: I empathize, but for us it’s usually our daughter’s pediatrician. There are times ya wonder if the doc’s got a little “health goes to hell” button they push as they leave the office.
I was honestly surprised to find that none of our cats died, just before we walked in the door, the way the rest of the ‘welcome home news’ went.
[sub]I probably wouldn’t have seemed so bad if the vacation itself hadn’t been such a washout to begin with.[/sub]
What does it say about my life that The Devil’s Grandmother is giving me sympathy?
Things have actually improved, thankee. My buddy’s okay (with no intrusive surgery, yet), Mrs. Skeezix’s grandfather’s okay too, though he apparently needs an increase in the dosage of his medication, and since we didn’t do much on our vacation, we took the excess cash we’d planned on using whilst away and bought us a cheapie DVD player, finally entering the 21st century. Or something. What the hell, it’s only money, right?
But my guts’re still tied in a knot, and Austin’s still gone, so, phht. Ya take it however you can get it, I guess.
[sub]Saw this hat in a little shop, said “Official Member of the Bitch and Moan About Everything Club” that made me chuckle. Guess I should’a got me one.[/sub]
One summer, I took a business trip to Detroit [sub] of course business - who vacations there? [/sub]. The day before I was to come home, I called my mother. Her sister died the previous day - sudden, massive coronary.
That winter, I took a vacation to Barbados [sub]THIS is where you vacation [/sub]. Come home, talk to my mom. She’s going to a funeral that night - her cousin died, sudden stroke.
Three months later, my uncle has a heart attack. His wife calls my mom frantically, and tells her, then says “PLEASE tell me Ed isn’t out of town!”
Geez, lurker, remind me to make sure I clear my travel plans with you. Yeesh.
And you’re right, of course, the story flows much better the first way.
[sub]Well, we got through the wake without any hysterics. Seems awfully bloody unfair that he “looked better” in his coffin than he has for the past couple’a months, though. That shit just ain’t right.[/sub]
