Sunday, August 01, 2010


I had a piss-poor week last week.
Sunday, I found out that the mother of a close family friend had died. So Tuesday, I went to Granny Elsie's funeral.
Wedneday, I went to work. All day I was feeling like dogshit warmed over and served on a paper plate. I was up and down all night, later realizing I was passing a stone.
Thursday, I overslept by an hour and a half so I said fuck it, I'll stay home and finish pissing out this rock. It was out by 3 PM.
Friday, I went to work and got a text from mom that Grandpa Bud was trying to die again, they were turning off his life support and I needed to get there NOW.
I left work and went to the hospital, said my last goodbyes and watched them turn off the machines. They said it could be a few minutes or a few days.
Two hours later, I'm helping to bathe him, shaving him changing his fucking drawers (not a memory I need) and getting him ready for everybody else to say their goodbyes. While I'm doing that, he's chattering away. Not bad for a dead man.
Tonight I hear that the nurses are tired of his complaining, bitching and whining, not to mention the fact that somebody (Hmmmmm, I wonder who..... Thanks Lula and Hubbs, for reminding me)  gave him a bottle of whiskey to "ease his pain", so they're kicking his ass out to die at home.
As usual, he's doing a poor job of dying.
He's still alive.


Deb said...

De ja vu all over again. This Bud's not through!

Hang in there, Grandpa Bud!

Bella said...

It ain't over till it's over. He is a cheeky one. Got to Love Him.

yolo said...

aww, sounds like you take after him, tenacious. good luck on this NEXT week !

Lula said...

Dying like he lived I see. Ornery as hell with a glass of whiskey!