Curious George Goes to the Hospital

    September started pretty much the same as August, hot and humid, nothing extraordinary. Katrina and New Orleans were on most of our minds more than anything else, otherwise nothing extraordinary. I went to work and came home, nothing extraordinary. I usually sit here and read groups, blogs, and scout for nude pics of Walter Brennan, and Thursday night was no different. I got to sleep around 11-12, as usual, with two alarm clocks set for 4:15 a.m. At exactly 3:08 a.m. deputy Whatsits called and told my machine if it was Richard and he was there to pick up. I got up, turned on some lights and ambled towards the machine because I had not understood nor recognized the voice. Before I could play the message back, the phone rang again. It was Grandmama, wife of George, explaining that he had experienced some sort of attack, a seizure perhaps; and he was about to be airlifted to New Hanover Regional Medical Center. I got dressed and went right over, the place was lit up quite well by the combined lights of two patrol cars, an ambulance, and the requisite first responder's dash globe. There may have been a fire truck as well, they seem to show up everywhere. I haven't asked Grandmama about it, as this woman is rather difficult to get through to under the best of circumstances. I've decided to assume they didn't understand her either and didn't know what sort of emergency they were responding to so they sent everyone.

They decided to take the road rather than the sky for whatever reason, and asked that she go if she were going, so I got her shoes on her and sent her in the ambulance. I stayed behind to advise his son, and to await the arrival of her son, my Uncle, and to lock up. At this point, I was preparing to call work and my ride and cancel both, and go to the hospital with Uncle. That is when her phone rang, it was Grandmama. They had stabilized him, but were still baffled concerning what exactly had happened to him and why. Discerning that I was not educated nor equipped to do anything for him, I decided to go to work. I handed Uncle Grandmama's checkbook, gave him my number at work, and sent him to the hospital. They stopped by the job on their way back to the house to get her medication to report no change. I got home about 6ish to listen to answering machines reporting no change.

With Saturday afternoon came consciousness, and the departure of his son. He asked to be kept informed, but he does have a wife 8.3 months pregnant at home, alone with their 14 month old! I went for my first visit Saturday evening, and we waited an hour because they said he had just gone for MRI. George was quite confused, which is to be expected, I'm told. I asked him about going in the tube, which he responded he wasn't looking forward to, I let it go. Grandmama chose to misunderstand what he was saying, to assume he was speaking about the tube that had been down his throat the previous day and a half. Once she knew he was unaware that he had already been for an MRI, all bets were off. This is the ugly part of our story, where it is revealed that this woman is so consumed with herself that everything somehow relates directly to her and her own experiences. She found it necessary to argue with a delirious, half-dead man, to make sure he knew that she knew something that he did not. He was not aware enough to notice. Today he was moved to a semi-private, started squawking about an imaginary fire, and was moved to a private. Lucky guy that bed 2 guy.

Grandmama. I have never in all my years, even when surrounded by people that were under the influence of many different combinations of drugs; ever met anyone so enraptured by the sensation of noise coming out of their own face. If you've heard the psychology term "internal monologue", or the literary use of it; imagine a person without one. Imagine every thought that ever crossed your mind streaming directly out of your mouth. That is the wonder that is my Grandmama. I don't feel guilty, with someone in hospital as I complain about his wife, because this is my space and I am the picture of love and support in person. I just had to share this face, being the two-faced ratbag that I am. I have spent most of the last three days listening to someone that is only content when she is allowing her skull to rattle out utter nonsense non-stop. We'll return to normal programming in the next day or two. --r-