I've fallen, and I can't get up...

Oh, the things that have happened since the last post...

I went to OKC, and it was a great time. We had a friendly waitress at Beverly's Pancake Corner. Her name was Brittany (I think), and her mother's name was Smokey, but we never got to meet her because we weren't able to come in the following day as planned.

The memorial was a downer, and we practically had to carry Jhoneric through it, and it was hard not to mist up going through the museum, but still it was a great trip.

Speaking of great trips...

Mother's Day weekend I saw Mom. It wasn't as bad as previous visits, so I'm in a slightly better place. I got to visit Les & Paulette (they are at the top of my webpage (and are the pic you click to get here, actually) and are my 2nd set of parents).

And speaking of great trips...

On Mother's Day, I was at Ben & Tricia's (as is my Sunday custom), doing laundry (as is my custom now that my washing machine has died and is the custom on days when I think I can save a few bucks by doing laundry there...), and watching our Sunday shows. I went upstairs during the first commercial break in Desperate Housewives because I'd forgotten all about my laundry. There wasn't an actual rush to beat the commercials, because they have PVR and can pause the show, etc.

But, as I was carrying my whites down the stairs, I noticed that the commercial break was not over. I was very amazed by this. I was so amazed, in fact, that I forgot I still had one or two steps left to go!

There was cracking, and tearing, and gasps, and my hand instinctively doing emergency re-positioning of bones, and all kinds of fun.

Olivia was asleep, but Maddie was not, and she was beside herself with worry. If there's one thing to take your mind off your horrible situation, it's the desperate need to get a four-year-old's mind off your horrible situation.

All kinds of insurance fun will be discussed later, perhaps. But the emergency room doc thought I should be admitted and that surgery would be needed. Then later--after some insurance-related thought, I'm sure--they decided to send me on my way and have me call the orthopedic surgeon the following day.

I ended up having the surgery this past Thursday. Good times.

I'm currently staying with my sister, and debating when I should return home. It's mostly the fact that I have stairs at home and would be alone that is keeping most people arguing for me to stay either with Ruth, Ben & Tricia, or other volunteers (props to Lyndsey).

I'm going a bit stir crazy, especially now that something's up with my connection to the school via the web, and I don't know how much of this I can stand. And I need to shave.

So there's the news. I hope everyone is having a great day.

Oh, I forgot! Andra came to town and I missed it! That was just before Mother's Day weekend. I'm upset about that, but not as upset as her, I'm sure, since I've yet to contact her about it. I realized Saturday night that I never got back to her or Bee. I'm a schmuck. So it goes.

Speaking of death...

It's Easter, and the topic on everyone's mind is death... albeit mostly associating it with that whole conquering death thing that Easter is about. Or something.

So what a great opportunity to share something that I am unable to share with anyone in person, because it's sort of horribly emotional and nothing I want to talk about in person.

We have this song we're singing in this next concert which is about "mother". I find the last verse--which mainly focuses on how when it's her time to go, I hope she sees the love in my eyes that I saw in hers as I was growing up--to be particularly painful to make it through.

Here's the thing: there's no "good-bye" moment with someone in my mom's state. I mean, it's not just that whole, "I never got to say good-bye" or "The last thing I said to her was, 'You've got tuna salad on your blouse'" thing. There's NO "good-bye" moment. I'll never know when the "good-bye" moment was. I'll never know what the ACTUAL last thing I said to her was, in her mind.

Was it when I asked her about Uncle Bud at that Hardee's in Mexico, MO a few years ago? Was it something that I said to her that Christmas she came to Omaha? Was it me running in as a little boy, a deep gash in the back of my right hand, screaming, "I'm gonna die!" Was it some awful thing I said to her in my horrible teen years? Was it me asking her if dad was going to die?
Does she even remember me existing?

The big thing is, where is she? Where's that woman that was my mother? The one who said, "You just as well laugh as cry" and "Who's driving the truck?" and "Like a bicycle," (in response to someone saying they were too tired) and the one who'd sing "Marsie Doats" and about ten other old standards whenever the whim would strike her... that woman is where, exactly?

And who is staring at me when I'm at the nursing home? Who is giving me that angry look? Is it the woman who said, "If I ever get like gramdma, I want you to promise you'll kill me." Is she laying there, looking at me, thinking, "Well, you promised, didn't you?"

Happy Easter, everybody!