what's up?

turvy

 1946 chevy fleetline

1946 chevy fleetline

my day started with a swollen eye at my mom's house. must be allergic to a new detergent on her sheets or something, but then, why only one eye, and not the other? and i don't have allergies anyway, so maybe a spider bite, but no sign of one...

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so i had just driven the daily hour and a half home to whittier yesterday after work, when i get a call from my brother. he's visiting our parents, so not completely weird, but then he says dad's in the hospital. he's talking quickly and quietly, telling me what's happened to get him to the point of agreeing to go...dad has a big dislike for hospitals, kind of like it would be admitting to a defeat or facing his mortality.  

the gist of the convo, before my bro said he had to go and quickly cut off the story: dad had been to a regular doctor's appointment in the morning. doctor checked his stats, did a routine blood test and told him he needed to go to the e.r., like now. 

my dad instead went home. figured if he went directly, they wouldn't feed him, and he'd been fasting. made himself a tuna sandwich, washed down with a diet coke. finally mentioned to my mom and bro what the doctor told him, and that he was short of breath. joked about having his last meal first. dark humor...wonder where i get it from.

starts telling them to find this and that to take with him. he huffs and wheezes up the stairs, only to not be able to find whatever it is either. 

supposedly my mom is running around stressing out, and a few curse words are heard by my bro...and my mom so very rarely uses them, so it's like, oh! 

anyway, they got him there, he's in the e.r., he's cranky, and being one of those old crusty a-hole types because he doesn't want to be there. i suppose he's mostly scared is all...thought he was having a heart attack. i'm picturing fred sanford..."i'm coming elizabeth...," while clutching his heart.

that's where my bro left me hanging in the story... 

what to do, what to do. just got home, and it's rush hour traffic. made up my mind to turn around and head back to where i'd just been two hours ago.

so i packed some clothes in a bag, told my better half it was nice sharing these ten minutes with you, and he walked me back out to my car. 

there's a car parked in front of mine on the curb. we see a can of some type of drink fly out the passenger window onto the sidewalk. wtf.  

better half stomps over to the passenger side, picks up said can and asks the person if they want this back. i heard some sort of expletive answer, and they begin to pull away. in a fit of pent up exhaustion, and the sheer nerve of the person, my better half lightly tosses the can at the back of the car.

it connects. the car quickly goes in reverse. 

i don't know who's in that car yet, and was expecting some shit to go down. 

this scrawny, chola girl hops out and starts a shouting match with my better half, who is having my worser half moment. "don't you be throwing shit at my car! i'm gonna call the cops!" to which my better half said, "i'm going to call the cops!"

at that the little beotch jumped back in her car and peeled outta there, through the stop sign, without stopping. better half tried to take picture of her plate, but it was a new car, and had paper plates. 

i told him i'd seen the same car around a few days before, must be visiting the neighbors'. i'm sure he'll be watching out to have another delightful chat with her. 

he said it didn't do anything to her car. he was fuming about why people go to someone else's hood and throw their trash around. 

so that was an exciting send off. 

half an hour later, i've made it to the freeway and enjoying an actual ok speed of fifty miles per hour, when my sister calls to find out if i'd heard anything...tell her the little i know, and promise to call back. 

ten minutes further down the freeway, my bro calls with an update. not a heart attack, just severely anemic. passing along my mom's message that he seems to be ok, not an emergency, and don't be rushing down. 

keep in mind that if his arm was falling off, and he's bleeding out, she'd still say everything is ok, so as not to alarm anyone, and not disturb their sleep. 

i'm tired, my bro is there with them. he agrees he seems to be perking up with a transfusion. so fuck, i decide to turn around and head back to whittier, since i hadn't hit the halfway point yet. figured i'd stop by at lunchtime tomorrow (today as i type this), since it's not far from my office.

got home, ate dinner, took a shower, worked on this picture while my hair dried, then went to bed. 

simple lines of a fleetline, soothed me, slowing my churning thoughts enough so i could get some sleep.

explains a lot about my late evening posting, doesn't it?