It’s late and about 2 weeks of little to no sleep and all this family drama has finally started catching up with me. So I’m going to sleep, but I thought I’d post that today (especially the morning) was something like a miracle. Buck’s doing much much much better. He’s off the ventilator, he recognizes us, etc. This morning when it was just me and Buck’s brothers Doc and Bo he gave us the biggest smile that just melted my heart. But this isn’t the end of it. He made us cut off the purple DNR band, but I don’t really know why.
I’ll write more later, now I sleep (hopefully).
I’m not about to upload the entirety of Wale’s new mixtape (The Mixtape About Nothing), but I suggest you download it. I’m a big Wale girl and I’ve been waiting for this to drop (can’t really call it a leak since it’s free to begin with, but still) and needless to say, so not disappointed.
“Underneath every nigger, there’s a little bit of Kramer.” He then plays the Michael Richard’s Letterman apology for his comments. Nicely done.
Julia Louis-Dreyfus is my hero. Listen to the mixtape and you will know why I not only accept Hardie’s interpretation of me as the Elaine in his Seinfeld vision of our lives, but I agree sorta with it
Download here.
First post from the overnight ICU waiting room nightwatchman job. Tomorrow they run the neurological tests (days after they should have) to verify what we all know already – he’s just not there. The 8 minutes without oxygen almost killed his body, but completely killed his soul. Those 21 grams have been gone since that lost shot of morphine shot into his body. And now its just a waiting game – for the moment when there is no hope; the moment there is no glimmer of chance; the moment when we pull the plug. Now we’re all waiting to see what my mom does. Will she run? Will she try to die? Or will she just go away? She’s already not there, I saw that the moment I met her in the hallway. I see it every time I look at her, every time I look into her eyes or see just how tired she really is. We all look like shit, but goddamn if she hasn’t just given up completely. Murphy’s Law holding true down (up?) here in Missouri.
I woke up today in my bed at home and in the moment before I pulled the blanket off my face, I didn’t know where I was. Needless to say, I was disappointed when I realized I was here and not, well, anywhere else.
Kanye West – “Family Business”
No explanation needed. Also appropriate, “Roses” and maybe “Hey Mama.”
Two hours into my Carthage experience, while en route to the hospital to see my stepdad for the first, I, of course straight on the path the universe has recently sent me down, got into a car wreck with some meth woman. She, as predicted, walked away with not a single scratch on her solid metal clunker of a car, while the front end of my dear Tobey the Topaz is now held up by my step-brother’s leather belt. Needless to say, the follow-up visit to the hospital wasn’t so great.
That stuff you see on the hospital dramas like E.R. or House where the beloved family member is hooked up to every possible machine, where they look completely helpless; the scenes where you talk to the comatose person because well somewhere along the line someone proved that they might just hear you and perhaps your voice will wake them up, well that’s all true.
My stepfather is sprawled out on his hospital bed, hooked up to every machine – ventilator, dialysis, ekg, etc. Every possible aspect of his health is being constantly monitored. The little purple band across his left wrist means DNR -do not resuscitate.
He might get better, but I think only my sister and one of my brothers actually believe this. I did NOT come to America because I thought I would get to walk him out of the hospital. I came because I knew this was the end. He was in a coma when I left, and he still is.
They keep him sedetated because when he’s awake it’s heartbreaking. The sheer terror in his eyes. He doesn’t recognize anyone, his body fights the machines. He’s told us all that he would, should the situation ever arise, NOT want to live as a vegetable for as long as the machines could keep him alive.
Tomorrow my stepsister leaves because she has to work to pay her mortgage. Unless he takes a turn for the worse in which case she’ll stay, we’ll have the conversation about when she can come back because we know that she would be heartbroken if she weren’t here when his time comes. She wouldn’t want my mom to be alone in giving to orders to shut off the machines.
None of this would have happened if it weren’t for so many mistakes made by St. John’s. Had the doctor taken Buck in for the surgery the day he was supposed to, they wouldn’t have fed him so much morphine. Had they checked his records, reviewed his history, or just plain used good judgment, then the would have stopped the morphine – would have realized that he’s 66 years old with a history of prior illness (yielding ~65% mortality rate associated with peritonitis) and not have given him enough morphine to slow his heart down, to eliminate oxygen to the brain for 8 minutes.
I guess miracles happen, right?
The Hold Steady – “Sequestered in Memphis”
One of the first songs to leak off their 4th studio album “Stay Positive.” Whether or not I’ve mentioned it, I absolutely lovelovelove the Hold Steady. Like a lot. The last time I saw them play in Vancouver, Canada for my 20th birthday with Hardie and Joe, it just barely fell short of the Drive-By Trucker’s show in Tulsa for my 21st birthday as THE best show I’d ever been to. And did I mention I met them? Cause, you know, I did. Hardie had the hook-up and so we rocked it with the Hold Steady in an Vancouver alleyway. Anyways this song’s pretty tight.
[[download "Sequestered in Memphis"]]
Today I will talk with the legal people at the hospital to find out what the fuck they are planning on doing since they’ve essentially killed my dad. Then I have to search my sister’s house for my grandma and grandpa’s engagement rings that she stole from me while I was gone. All in all, a good day.
Filed under: Bad Days
Back in Missouri. Knee deep in the drama. No escape. But I’m not staying here. I can’t stay here. I can’t. I give it two weeks, TOPS.
Well. My art teacher didn’t give me an extension. Instead in her reply email she tells me to bring my project in tomorrow, i.e. 2 weeks EARLY. As such, I have just finished supergluing a shit-ton (the official calculation) of shiny orange lentejuelas (sequins) in the shape of 14 carrots and an appropriate number of green sequins to complete the carrot tops. Now it is done, but I’m afraid to turn it at a 180 degree angle because I know everything will fall off…. if that doesn’t happen then I get to transport it to San Andres tomorrow via my normal morning commute- although I think I’ll opt for taxi in lieu of the morning subte ride…
Needless to say, I did not pack. Well, that’s a lie. I have packed two bottles of wine, some alfajores and a bunch of other presents. Also a black dress and black heels. Nothing else though. Whatever the outcome, by this time tomorrow I will be almost 5 hours into my flight to Kansas City.
Jeez, I don’t want to go home.
(OH yeah for those out of the loop: I’m going home because Buck is basically dead. Well, at least he was for 7 minutes after the hospital overdosed him on morphine. He’s in a coma in ICU and it ain’t looking good. God speed, papa.)
So yeah change of plans. I’m now going home, i.e. the US of A. For of course the worst of reasons.
See you later, Buenos Aires. (espero que sí).
I said I was “out of commission” for awhile what with the stepfather being in a vegetative state and all; however, as shocking as it is, it has come to my attention, that I can’t just sit here thinking all the time. I tried reading, I tried writing, I tried watching the tv, I tried sleeping pills. I just can’t sleep. I’m tired and eventually I will fall asleep, and then I’ll sleep way too long and everything will be just like the day before except my stepdad will still be in a coma (prognosis varies from “uhh…not so good” to “really not good”).
And so, Alejandra Pizarnik aside, I’ll think of something to post here….
The thing that always makes everything better (although this could [and probably] only applies to me) is sitting on the floor listening to music while pretending nothing is wrong. Some call it avoidance with a tendency towards putting myself as close to rock bottom as I physically can, I call it a good way to spend a night.
As I explained to my friend tonight, my life is essentially in a teen drama, similar to, let’s say, off the top of my head, The O.C. (Or you could go as far as the first two seasons of Dawson’s Creek), The reason I’m so attracted to these types of programs is because well all the pretty rich kids on those shows actually lead lives complete with more drama than mine. You see, my life is pretty much exactly like their’s except I’m not so American Eagle cute, nor am I a trust fund kid, nor are there enough brooding bad boys or Seth Cohens (although, to paraphrase him, he is the male me); however, like there family’s season two ends with a parent in a coma, one having a breakdown, teenage pregnancy and just a whole slew of other drama. But, hey at least I’m like 10,000 miles from it all, right?
Quehaceres para mañana (i.e. to do list)
1) Watch Garage Olimpo
2) Call home and see what’s up
3) Reply to emails I’ve been avoiding
4) Buy a short jean skirt and some classy clothes**
5) A new purse, maybe?
** I decided next year will be me alternating between more rock & roll chic and classy sophisticated lady wear.
Filed under: The New Deal | Tags: autumn, city life, Scarlett Johansson, T-Pain, whiny girl emails
So a return to real (i.e. not sad little Laura whining about sucky stuff) posting! Ah! The internets can rest tonight!
I’m writing again. Maybe I’ll finish it this time, probably won’t though, let’s be realistic, other than the past Thanksgiving (ah! fond memories!), I haven’t actually finished anything I’ve started since…ummm… high school, but still I’m optimistic. I have nothing better to do during lectures, so I might as well write, then edit/transcribe in lovely Word later that night. And with the internet always broken, what other things can I use my computer for?
It feels like Fall, which means it feels like Halloween, here in Buenos Aires, which makes sense since, well it is technically fall/verging on winter. The 30+ (Celsius) degrees days have passed, the sky is overcast, and leaves blow down the streets. It’s absolutely beautiful. I have two favorite times in city life. The first is the moments before the sunrise. Walking through the city (normally to the subte to head to school), watching the buildings lit from below as the sun creeps up, just makes me happy (unlike the sunsets, which sorta make me sad.). Second and my favorite without a doubt: rain in the city. Oh so noir. I love standing on my balcony watching the rain fall on the lit street, everything cast in a gentle blue, car tires wet with the drops. So beautiful, so poetic. Ahhh, there indeed are times when I really like city life.
Remember when Scarlett Johansson was not just an actress, but a great actress? I do. Of course, I refer to Ghost World, Love Song for Bobby Long, and Lost in Translation. I don’t really understand what happened to her? Maybe it was losing the little bit of chunk around the waist, putting on a heck of a lot more make-up, making Tom Waits cover albums? I don’t know.
Finally, I <3 Microsoft Office 2007. Like a lot. Like I would have little Productivity Pack babies with it a lot. My words just look sooo pretty! (in it, not here).
A song I just wrote an impassioned email to a friend about:
