I am now breathing a sigh of relief because my grandfather is coming home from the hospital; it wasn't a stroke, it was more along the lines of extreme exhaustion (easy when you're almost 87) and a gout flare-up which killed his appetite and exacerbated the exhaustion ... also some dehydration and nausea from the gout.
On the flip side of the coin, my stepfather had a doctor's appointment today because his latest x-ray couldn't explain his chest pain so a CT scan was needed. He broke a rib last year, but even at his age, the rib would have long since healed.
So I'm in the kitchen and I'm cleaning the dishes from late-lunch/early-dinner when he comes into the living room with his doctor's orders:
"He sees a hard mass between the ribs and he wants me to see an oncologist. Guess I need to make out a bucket list."
With my right hand to God, this is the *EXACT* speech my mother belted out with zero-seconds-preparation:
"Oh, boo-fucking-hoo! Do you know how many benign tumors and cysts I've had sliced out of my uterus? Over a dozen! You're talking about a bucket list when it's probably a goddamned stack of pancakes sticking to your ribs! You don't sit there and whine and piss and moan and give up the fight before it even starts, you put your fucking game face on!"
Gee, Mom, did you *intend* to spawn and raise a jarhead or did that shit just come naturally?
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ceresWhen the last moon is cast over the last star of morningAnd the future has past without even a last desperate warningRegistered User, Moderatormod
Your mom is cool
And it seems like all is dying, and would leave the world to mourn
Mistakes happen. Those situations are always extremely tense and stressful for everyone, so it's good to give folk have some wiggle room.
I'm super tired tonight, but I gotta stay up and make sure a person is safe tonight myself, so you all have my sympathies.
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Please do not ever, under any circumstances, say things like this if you are not 100% in possession of all the facts. It is incredibly irresponsible.
On the flip side of the coin, my stepfather had a doctor's appointment today because his latest x-ray couldn't explain his chest pain so a CT scan was needed. He broke a rib last year, but even at his age, the rib would have long since healed.
So I'm in the kitchen and I'm cleaning the dishes from late-lunch/early-dinner when he comes into the living room with his doctor's orders:
"He sees a hard mass between the ribs and he wants me to see an oncologist. Guess I need to make out a bucket list."
With my right hand to God, this is the *EXACT* speech my mother belted out with zero-seconds-preparation:
"Oh, boo-fucking-hoo! Do you know how many benign tumors and cysts I've had sliced out of my uterus? Over a dozen! You're talking about a bucket list when it's probably a goddamned stack of pancakes sticking to your ribs! You don't sit there and whine and piss and moan and give up the fight before it even starts, you put your fucking game face on!"
Gee, Mom, did you *intend* to spawn and raise a jarhead or did that shit just come naturally?
Yes, it's her last name.
I'm super tired tonight, but I gotta stay up and make sure a person is safe tonight myself, so you all have my sympathies.