Going thru the motions

It's hard to believe it's an hour til midnight on Friday night.  I just barely made it through this week.  After a week cluttered with multiple birthdays, one performance, one audition, one day of 101.9 degree fever, and two days of sore throat (not all necessarily in that order), I rewarded myself with a relaxing bubble-gum, chick flick movie by myself - while my Mom is out enjoying herself at a fun concert with girlfriends - exactly the type of fun she so well deserves.  Just before turning in I take my little loves Melvin and Jenny up the corner to do their business - and Melvin, yet again, ran into something exceedingly smelly and gross ending up on his fur.  After hustling them back in the house where I could hear the tea kettle screaming and the answering machine beeping - I look at Melvin's neck to assess the dirty damage, and there are disgusting brown gops of something stuck to his fur.  I almost vomit.  I immediately get soapy towels and start scrubbing away the grossness - Melvin stands patiently, Jenny observes from a distance, ears perked and head cocked in curiosity.  And the phone beeps on, and the kettle steams.  Finally when I think I've scrubbed sufficiently, I pick myself up off the floor, pitch the towels in the trash, throw a cookie at the dogs and a tea bag in a mug, pour the water and check the message machine...

"Hi Barbara... this is [so-and-so] from CNS residence in Bakersfield, I'm the Case Manager for David this weekend.  He was complaining of chest pain and so we took his blood pressure a few times every hour, and he took his medicine and it seemed to go down-- but just in case he's at the hospital"  the perky voice stated.

Ummm, fuck.  Okay, think, process, act.  I turn to the bulletin board and dial CNS.  Mom's still not home yet (in fact she's still not home as I write this and I'm assuming has no idea of the whole incident yet -- unless she's actually checked her cell phone messages).  I call and ask for the Case Manager.  "Tiffany"  gets on the phone and explains the whole story.  Dad complained of chest pain at 5pm. Blood pressure was taken, meds administered, it went down a touch.  6pm - they take it again, still a little high.  7pm - I talk to Dad on the phone - he sounds great, strong, content, still non-sensical but I don't hold my breath for sense anymore, but he wasn't whining or sad.  8:30pm they take him to the hospital because he screamed everytime he got up or sat down.  10:30pm they discharge him saying he simply pulled a muscle.  I talk to Sarah and to Dad -- he sounded exhausted and upset.  Sarah said he was doing okay, ready to get back to the apartment and go to sleep, and she was holding his hand all the way.  

What do we do with this information from 200 miles away?!!!! Tell me!  Can anything happen or not happen in the next two weeks he has to be there?!  It's fucking agonizing.  I know we've got a lifetime of drama in store for us when he gets home - but at least we'll be in contorl, and he'll be in control of his life again - because this is his life - here, on Royal Blvd, with his two girls and his two dogs.  

I spent the following 15 minutes after I hung up with Sarah debating how to tell my Mom.  If to tell her at all.  She'll be terrified and want to steal him away tomorrow when we're there.  I think I'll start by telling her, "Dad pulled a muscle.... in his chest... and to make sure it wasn't his heart, they took him to the hospital."  yes, that should be fine.

I'm feeling rather calm, but I think it's honestly because I know he's asleep now, and I know he's okay.  I feel he's okay.  but dear god make this be over with soon.