My three-year-old Lanes and I just returned from Seattle. We went down for my father’s birthday and to spend some time with my parents before they left for Sri Lanka. My nutty sister is usually the one who gets to cart them around for various doctor’s appointments and so I was glad to be able to be part of the travelling medical circus that is my family.
We were really a comical site at the hospital(s). My sister was sitting in the waiting room frantically meddling around with her blackberry because she had so much scheduling to do with her work and kids, then she had to run and discuss payment terms with the financial office. My father was supposed to fill out forms.
I grabbed them and filled up half and gave him the rest, but he was daydreaming and holding onto them, not realizing he couldn’t go to his appointment until the forms were handed over. He tried to accuse me of not showing him all the forms, but that didn’t fly and my sister muttered under her breath and confiscated the forms and filled them out herself.
Lanes was clinging onto a pink dinosaur with green camouflage markings, my mom was sitting with her handbag on her knees, like she is waiting on a crowded bench for a train or the next bus out of town, and I was henpecking my father about his hearing aid. He is notorious for not wearing it to his appointments, causing my long suffering sister to repeat everything the doctor is saying into his ‘good’ ear. For the longest time, his doctor thought he didn’t speak English.
After all the forms were finally filled and blackberries were put away, we suddenly heard a high pitch noise, and we turned in surprise to find my father trying to tune into Mars or something with his hearing aid. No wonder I always told him he was on another wavelength. After much ado, he got it into the right setting just when the doctor walked in.
Long story short, even if we are not really sure about a plan of action to battle my father’s cancer, the doctors took a lot of time to explain procedures and the disease well enough for people with no medical background to have a understanding of what’s going on. Well at this point my sister, I am sure, would beg to differ because she has been known to use her PhD as a MD, often doling out unwanted medical advice and warnings at whim--she also thinks three Tylenol is a panacea for most ailments.
I was grateful I could finally be part of these meetings because understanding what’s going on is half the battle. It is not knowing the information that leads to fear and confusion. And when all of us trooped in (complete with my brother-in-law’s uncle who was almost intimidatingly taking detailed notes), I don’t know what went through the doctors’ minds. They must have laughed in their lunch room saying the only thing we didn’t bring was the family goat.
On the way back from one of the visits, we stopped by a grocery store and my parents stayed in the car with Lanes. For some reason, my sister decided to run across the parking lot. Not knowing why she was bolting, I broke out in a run after her as a reflex (perhaps because she was always ‘abandoning’ me when we were little).
When we got to the store I asked her what she was doing (right after I asked myself what I was doing since running is usually something I wouldn’t be caught dead doing unless a cockroach was chasing me). I am definitely built for couch-sitting though. I am a fully accomplished sitter. Any old how, she said she felt like giving all the other cancer patients in the parking lot a good laugh to see two fat ladies running. I was not amused.
My sister is constantly getting me into one sort of situation or another, yet I wind up gravitating towards her. I need to get some insurance before visiting her in the future. On Wednesday, she ran off to the gym in the wee hours of the morning, happily setting her alarm and securing us while we slept.
I was trying to convince Lanes that breakfast is a good idea when we were suddenly deafened by a whole slew of sirens, thereby stifling my pleas and her protests. My father sheepishly announced that he opened a window and set of the alarm. I had to run downstairs before the police showed up and I managed to slip and have a thundering fall. I just slid from one end of the corridor to the other like a bowling ball racing down an alley. 'Luckily' a wall came in my way.
I bashed both my knees, and I was unable to get up. My mom was in the loo, and my father couldn’t come down because his feet were sore from chemo. He was watching me from upstairs in horror and Lanes was looking me like I was crazy to create such a drama over her not eating breakfast. Eventually, I scrambled up and got the alarm off.
Then I had to run upstairs with bruised knees and all, because the alarm company called to make sure I wasn’t an intruder. After I gave them almost as much information about myself as I did to the Canadian Census form, I was asked for a password. I hadn’t a clue, but luckily my mother materialized at that moment and supplied me with the right answer, thereby averting my potential arrest.
The next day, I had Lanes secured and eating breakfast for once (probably because she wanted to avoid the fiasco from the day before) when my sister sauntered in from the gym and said she had to pick up her daughters in five minutes and that we should go. I protested at first because Lanes and I were both in our PJs, but she hurried us along like an over-caffeinated drill sergeant.
I dashed into the car after getting Lanes in her booster seat and proceeded to bash my head in as I was trying to sit down. The bump and throbbing in my head at the point of impact was one thing, but my neck got slammed down to the side and it was hurting from my ear to my shoulder. I had terrible visions of having to walk around with my head tilted to the side.
My sister quickly thrust a frozen juice box at me as a make shift compress and she kept asking me if I was dizzy, which only succeeded in making me feel super woozy. When we got back I was thankful for my nieces because Lanes was following them around like a puppy and I had such a big headache that I had to have a nap.
When I came down, Anna, my niece’s aunt/nanny and frequent announcer of the end of the world, told me my neck was swollen badly and that I should see a doctor at once. Considering she had no idea that I had that ‘accident’, she really freaked me out. At the end of the day, after much pain medication, I was sorted out. My kind elder niece promised me that my neck didn’t look as bad as Anna made it out to be, and I derived some comfort from that.
Then the day after that, I decided I should be extra cautious and aware so I won’t hurt any limb or vital organ. We went out for a peaceful lunch, and Lanes decided to break free from me in the parking lot and she tripped and fell face first on the ground before I could grab her. My younger niece and I were the only witnesses to this and we were so horrified that it took me a second to pick her up. Luckily, she broke her fall with her hands. I wasn’t even breathing when I checked her face, I was so scared. I was actually quite shaken by that.
In the end, it seemed like a long week and I had much to do when we returned. While Lanes and I were in Seattle competing to see who can accumulate the most boo boos, my meticulous spouse, P, was searching high and low for a new place for us to live. Lanes has to go to school in the neighborhood in which she lives, and she must be at that address beginning the January of the year she turns five (which is next year--she turns four next month).
Obviously, that is not the only reason we need to move. Between pipes bursting, mold sprouting, neighbors jumping, and elevators crashing, this is not a place we want to live in, let alone raise a child. It’s a real ‘crazy ass, ghetto-fabulous joint’ as I call it. How did we wind up here? I'm still waiting for some cameras to pop up and for me to find that we're on some reality show or something. It just can't be real.
It’s a pity because it’s in such a safe looking, pretty neighborhood, it’s hard to image that there is a whole lot of crazy within these walls. But alas, we are bound also by P’s terms of employment and as he is still a ‘temp worker’ we are in a bit of a bind because we are still uncertain where he would have to commute to should we find another place to live depending on the schools.
We will be focusing a lot on that this week. Meanwhile, June is almost over and it’s been chilly on and off. I am on a one woman strike about this so I defiantly go out in my summer clothes, despite the weather. No jackets for me (I’m not so sure I’ll be as adamant about it when I get pneumonia over this). Speaking of strikes, Canada Post is on strike, so we can’t mail anything or receive mail.
Boy I’ll really miss seeing bills and pizza menus in our postbox, let me tell you. I did see the postman today, but he was not really in uniform—I heard him in the distance telling someone who was surprised to see him working that he had to deliver pension checks. So that’s a good thing. Will keep you posted on that strike next week…
No comments:
Post a Comment
What say you?