You can’t make this stuff up

5am wakeup, slogging around, getting dressed, making sure Mom’s got the car keys. Then out to the parking area to await pickup at 5:40. On. The. Dot.

Thirty minutes later Firstborn comes back to the apartment… no doctor. She paws through her info packet, finds his cell number, calls.

Wakes him up.

His alarm failed. One consolation – nothing’s going to happen without the surgeon, though the hospital did call to find out where the hell everyone was.

Later, one of the office nurses stopped by, said that had never happened before and we had a good laugh. I also got the tutorial on what to expect. That sent me on a search mission for a grocery store for saltines, ginger ale and bottled water. Bottom line, Firstborn is going to look and feel like shit for tonight. I’m to make sure she hydrates with whatever I can get her to drink. And not freak at the state of her face.

The nose job and sinus tinkering apparently will be the worst insult to her system, causing problems breathing (and forget about swallowing). I bought bendy straws just in case. The mini-fridge has a wee freezer but an Antarctic ice sheet set up residence (I’m guessing it hasn’t been defrosted since 2002).

I found an Acme and a small shopping center, thanks Google maps. I added coke to the purchases as I recalled, after my many surgeries, that it actually settled my stomach. Mom’s also got an Italian hoagie and cheese curls for dinner (don’t judge).

I’m considering asking our house/barn sitter if she can do one more day as I’m thinking I really should stay through Wed. to make sure she’s okay. I’ll know more tomorrow.

Meantime I’m catching up on my reading and reviewing. I tried writing but I can’t really get in the zone, not with worrying ‘n such.

I’m expecting her back 5:30-ish if all goes well.

Twiddling thumbs…

About Nya Rawlyns

Nya Rawlyns doesn’t write typical romance. She writes emotion as a contact sport, rough and often raw. It need not be pleasant, heart-warming or forever after. What she seeks is what lies beneath—a dance of extremes, the intersect of need and desire, and the compromises we make when pain and pleasure become indistinguishable. ***** She has lived in the country and on a sailboat on the Chesapeake Bay, earned more than 1000 miles in competitive trail and endurance racing, taught Political Science to unwilling freshmen, and found an avocation in materials science. ***** When she isn’t tending to her garden or the horses, the cats, or three pervert parakeets, she can be found day dreaming and listening to the voices in her head.
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4 Responses to You can’t make this stuff up

  1. I’m with you in spirit. Oh man, what a bummer to start that way.

    Like

  2. mitziflyte says:

    You are a great Mom. We are very much alike. 😉 Ro will be beautiful after everything heals.

    Like

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