Don't Worry
Jan. 27th, 2011 07:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hafocSo the phone rings at 9:30. It's Mom. "I've got some bad news for you. Can you get something to write phone numbers with?"
"Sure. Go ahead."
"Your stepdad fell down when he got out of bed this morning, and we can't wake him. We're taking him to the hospital. Your stepbrothers are here. Don't worry."
"Yeah. Right." She knows me better than that, or she ought to.
"I don't want you to worry. And I don't want you to come driving down here. You get emotional but you'll try not to show it, and start making mistakes. I remember how you wrecked your truck when you came down for your uncle's funeral."
"I did NOT wreck my truck."
That is, strictly speaking, true. The damage was all on the other guy's vehicle, and it wasn't enough to call it "wrecked" anyway. I went inside, told the owner about it, and paid for the repairs-- I'm too blasted German to just drive away, dagnappit.
"You stay there anyway." Maybe she had a point. It was snowing heavily, and the Mustang is nobody's prime winter driving car. And I am not at my best when I'm OK and I'm Handling Things Well. I think I do handle them well- or get numb and muddle through, anyway, which is probably the best you can do, but as for the rest it is true only for certain very small values of OK.
I had the shakes, and everything was far away, and it was snowing, snowing, snowing.. forever.. no relief, no hope.
I stayed around the office and tried to work all day, until in the afternoon my uncle called me- no, this is not a ghost story, it's ANOTHER uncle- to tell me that my stepdad is probably going to be OK. Of those problems that can cause you to pass out, his turned out to be one of the more minor ones. Still, he's got pneumonia too, and there are other things to check and stabilize, so he's going to be in the hospital a few days. Again.
The price of having worthwhile things is losing them, I guess. I know that. I wonder sometimes whether it is better to lose the ones you love slowly or instantly. I've had both happen, and somehow, impossibly, each way is worse than the other.
I didn't lose anybody. Not today anyway. Not yet.
"Sure. Go ahead."
"Your stepdad fell down when he got out of bed this morning, and we can't wake him. We're taking him to the hospital. Your stepbrothers are here. Don't worry."
"Yeah. Right." She knows me better than that, or she ought to.
"I don't want you to worry. And I don't want you to come driving down here. You get emotional but you'll try not to show it, and start making mistakes. I remember how you wrecked your truck when you came down for your uncle's funeral."
"I did NOT wreck my truck."
That is, strictly speaking, true. The damage was all on the other guy's vehicle, and it wasn't enough to call it "wrecked" anyway. I went inside, told the owner about it, and paid for the repairs-- I'm too blasted German to just drive away, dagnappit.
"You stay there anyway." Maybe she had a point. It was snowing heavily, and the Mustang is nobody's prime winter driving car. And I am not at my best when I'm OK and I'm Handling Things Well. I think I do handle them well- or get numb and muddle through, anyway, which is probably the best you can do, but as for the rest it is true only for certain very small values of OK.
I had the shakes, and everything was far away, and it was snowing, snowing, snowing.. forever.. no relief, no hope.
I stayed around the office and tried to work all day, until in the afternoon my uncle called me- no, this is not a ghost story, it's ANOTHER uncle- to tell me that my stepdad is probably going to be OK. Of those problems that can cause you to pass out, his turned out to be one of the more minor ones. Still, he's got pneumonia too, and there are other things to check and stabilize, so he's going to be in the hospital a few days. Again.
The price of having worthwhile things is losing them, I guess. I know that. I wonder sometimes whether it is better to lose the ones you love slowly or instantly. I've had both happen, and somehow, impossibly, each way is worse than the other.
I didn't lose anybody. Not today anyway. Not yet.
