Getting the Shit kicked out of me.

I just got home.

Last night, at approximately 12:30 a.m. (Well, I guess that's officially this morning.) I got that phone call that you start out cursing, and end up dreading.

Looking at the caller id, I saw it was my mother and knew it was not going to be good news. When I answered and it was my grandmother I knew it was even worse than I thought.

My mother had fallen. My grandmother could not take her to the hospital, and would I be willing to drive over and take my mother? I believe a small sigh of relief escaped me as I was expecting much worse news.

I got dressed and cursed my husband for looking so cozy in bed, and headed over to my mothers. When I arrived, I was escorted to the back bedroom and confronted with my mother looking very much in pain. It was obvious she couldn't get out of bed on her own and doubtfully with my grandmother's assistance, so I inquired about an ambulance. In my mother's stubborn words, "I don't want to call an ambulance. They'll take me to Baptist, and I want to go to Mary's." I could hardly blame her for not wanting to go to Baptist. It was a chop shop. However, logic dictating, I asked, "Well how bout we call and find out if they can take you to Mary's instead?"

I called, they confirmd that she could do that, and then my grandmother called 911. They were busy. So we had to call out the Fire Department.

I must honestly admit this was the highlight of our evening. 5 strong, gorgeous men showed up. They were very nice and extremely gentle with my mother. One brawny fireman picked up my mother effortlessly and walked her out of the house to the stretcher. My grandmother, with her old lady gratiousness showing through, gave the fireman a token of her appreciation, a medium sized box of chocolates, with to our amusement made it as far as the fire truck. Upon leaving the house, we saw them scarfing it down as if it were a last meal.

We arrived at the hospital and they checked my mother in. They rolled her into the hallway and that's where she pretty much stayed for the rest of her duration there.

The first hour passed. She continually moaned and whimpered. The second hour, she was taken for x-rays. The third, a CAT scan. The fourth and fifth hour went by as we watched her roll around in pain. My grandmother and I exchanged glances. We had hoped at worst when we arrived that she had pulled a muscle in her groin, but the pain was not alleviating. We feared the unknown.

Finally in about the sixth hour, the doctor came by and gave the news. She has a fracture in her hip. She would need to go through surgery. Unfortnately for my mother, this is no minor ordeal. It's bad enough she fears surgery, although she's never had it, but she has a list of disorders and issues a mile long which when she broke her shoulder bone had the resident surgeon replying, "I would never do surgery on you and thank God I never will have to."

See, mom has scleroderma, lupus, and fibromyalgia. Which any one of those alone would be fatal, but together they keep her going. She's frail and has virtually no muscle in her body. She also has acid reflux and can not even lie down straight. To do surgery would be extremely risky.

My mom has been in and out of hospitals since age 18. She's seen more doctors than I've seen movies. She gets poked and prodded, and questioned and guessed about. She's a living guinea pig, and that's no exageration.

At one point this morning after about 7 hours at the hospital and a total of about 12 hours of pain, my mom admitted, "If I don't make it through this surgey, I don't care. I'm so tired of this. Everytime I get up on my feet, I get knocked down again. I just don't care...really, I mean it."

It takes quite a bit of shit throughout you're life to say that...and really mean it. It's fucked up.

I hope that it will be okay. I hope my mom will make it. But I can't but wonder....WHAT THE FUCK?!?!? The past three months have been HHHEEELLLL. Fuckin A, fucker, funking shit ass cunt!!! FUCK!

Okay, I'm going to get some sleep. I can't promise that I'll wite anytime soon. It depends on, well it depends on a lot of things.

So until then just call me Job.