That damn cat.
12:30 a.m. (morning of 14th) that damn thing is setting down at the back door mewing like nothing I have ever heard before. Yes, he talks. Yes, he chatters. But I swear to god, this was worse than any Klingon warrior moaning that I have ever heard on television.
Thank you very much for that.
My mind is still in the family waiting room. The replay of events that have been on a constant loop since I got Jeremy’s message – They were working on you when they walked me past the door. I heard just enough that I thought that poor family, and then I noticed but it didn’t register – There was no one else. I was trying to stay professional. I was trying to be strong in hopes that…
I heard to much. I had filled in the rest of the blanks just by the questions I was being asked and I knew. I pressed the issue with the cardiologist once he came to speak with me. (following a very brief statement that I had Living Will, MPOA, and a lawyer.) The charge nurse looked it up and confirmed and it wasn’t but just a couple of breaths before he was standing in front of me telling me that there may be diminished brain functions yet it was too soon to honor your wishes. Then contradicting himself by saying that he didn’t think that you were going to leave the ER.
Thirty plus years Jon. You think I have no idea of what I’m talking about but I saw it in your eyes last Wednesday after your check up. The NP told you the exact same things that I had told you because you repeated to me what she had said – gave her credit and it was VERBATUM what I had been telling you about your ribs. It was the heart attack in conjunction with stress and adrenaline following the accident. You quoted me the same thing with regards to your sugar. (Insert spit filled raspberry here.)
One of these days you and Keilan will learn to listen to me…