I should have known... I really should have

When I got up, I was the grinch. As if I knew this was going to be one bitch of a day. I left super early to get to Peter's because I did NOT like how he was yesterday, no, not at all, Preciousses....

So am on the bus on the way to Jaki, and had one of my dry-coughing spells, tickle in my throat, and am smoking the wrong snigarettes these days. They make me sound like a bass with a cold rather than a tenor, you know.

And then it happened. The guy on the other side of the aisle yelled at me and told me to at least cover my mouf with my hand while coughing. I saw red instantly. Literally. And said, 'Right, I have fucking swine flu, and we are all gonna die, right?' Shut him right up, yup...

And then I had to get off to get my transfer, and said, 'Asshole...'

'Where did you learn those sort of manners?'

'Well right here, from YOUSE guys...' And I descended.

I should have known right then.

Peter was in a terrible state. Shaking. Fever. Throwing up. I have known him thirty two years, and I had never seen him throw up. Will make a cross on that check list. The Red Cross people were supposed to re-dress his wound. Today was the frightening Nurse Vera, the Slovakian who had her sense of humour shot off in some sort of war.

I had left Peter's place in perfect order yesterday. He was sloppy, as usual. And he pissed himself in the bed I had freshly made yesterday. And kept throwing up. Oh yes, it was a fucking party.

And I got the fucking flak. I am überfordert... (can't cope with the situation), and I am the one who is cooking wrong, and what the fuck are all the crumbs doing on the table, and on and on. Till I fucking flipped out and said, 'Lady, when I left here yesterday, EVERYTHING was in perfect order. And I changed that bed and made sure everything was fresh and the floors were clean. And I do that every fucking goddamned day, and I can't help it if he happens to be the Crumb King of the World.' Gawd Damn, I was pissed off to death. 'And get him into a fucking hospital, because I have never seen him this badly off, and it is scaring me.'

His blood sugar was up to 510. He was shaking. He had fever. So we called an ambulance, and away we went. The Red Cross kids were nice, and funny. I'd never ridden in an ambulance before, (and wouldn't want to under any conditions....) but it was an interesting experience.

They were very professional. And Peter wasn't getting enough air, he said. So they gave him an oxygen mask.

And I was dying inside.

We got to the hospital. And that was end-station for me. I could NOT accompany him, nor decide on procedures, nor do one fucking thing but just WAIT. The hospital is huge, no smoking anywhere... except in the leper space where the ambulances come in in the garage. So I sat out there for two hours and watched them all roll in.

It was more interesting than sitting in the waiting room and provided some distraction. My favorites? I didn't KNOW that the police have ambulances, I really did not. The first one came in with some Middle Eastern guy with a plastic bag with his stuff, and he started flipping out, yelling in his own language and getting very agitated. But. The four officers were very professional, weren't nasty, and calmed him down.

The second one, they had a guy in handcuffs, real ones, nasty ones. Also as above, but a real sullen, quiet one.

I KNOW this is off the charts for running on, but that is how it feels when you get left out in the cold, and worry, and feel bad.... But at least it was distracting, you know?

They finally wheeled him into the waiting room, with three drips running into his veins. He looked terrible, and they couldn't tell me where they were going to put him for the duration. So I gave him my cell phone so that he can call me. They don't have phones in hospital rooms any more, you know? 'Because EVERYONE has a 'Handy'.' Ok...

I walked home. It is a long way. I needed the air. I needed space. I needed to get it all out of my system, in other words, or I would have fucking fallen apart.

I did cry when I walked in there this morning, have nerves as thin as vermicelli.

But have myself in grip again.

Turns out he has pneumonia as well as everything else. And had a mild heart attack on Sunday. HOW THE FUCK WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW? I'm not a doctor!

Oh MAN!

But so far, they are very good here, as much as Peter can bitch about them.

My Dad says my life is like a fucking soap opera? No. It can be a fucking tragedy sometimes, and one of these days, I am going to have such a heart attack, even I won't find it funny.