The one where I think I need a soundtrack for my life.

Something is wrong with me…in my head. For reals.

Go in for shots for my head. Wait for my husband to come fetch me..I think he went to Home Depot for something. I didn’t bring my handbag, just the money for my visit in my pocket. I have had these shots probably a thousand times and sometimes I go home and sleep and sometimes I go home and wander around. This particular adventue has never happened to me before.

I think I see him drive up in my chili pepper orange Element. (Not a likely car that I would mistake for anything else.)

But when I got to the parking lot, I realized that it was not my car. At all. And then I got so very tired that I just put my head down on the car window….which OF COURSE elicited two total strangers to come over and ask me if I was all right. (I’ve done the very same thing when I’ve seen ladies of a certain age walking in the alley looking confused. They have usually lost their car in the lot.)

But I am so very tired I cannot make the effort to answer them…which brings two more stangers to my side, asking if I’m all right. The next thing I know, one of the nurses has come out with a WHEELCHAIR and evidently the ambulance has been called because the EMT tells me he is going to start a BIG BORE line into my hand. I hate nothing NOTHING more that IV lines and those big bore needles really hurt.

Then I guess I end up in the ER where the nurses are even more confused than I am, because they are asking me random and very loud questions. So here is what I heard and what I was thinking because unlike some boring stroke stuff going on, I actually was thinking.

N is for nurses. M is my running dialog. I had plenty to think about. Keep in mind that the nurses are NOT using their inside voices.

N: Catherine! Catherine! Can you open your eyes?

M:Not for screaming harpies, I’m not.

N:Catherine! Catherine! Do you know your name?

M:No I don’t and you don’t either.

N:Catherine! Do you know what day it is?

M:I don’t even know my NAME and you want to know what day it is.

N: Catherine! Catherine! Do you know what month this is?

M:You are in worse shape than I am, missy. I don’t know what my name is and you are evidently at WORK and you don;t know what day it is OR what month it is. Do I look like a calendar?


M: Not only do I not know who I am, I don’t know who the president is.That Irish guy. O’Bama.

N: asking a bunch of random questions at the top of their lungs. Then they ask me, CAN YOU OPEN YOUR EYES?

M: I’m 60 years old, I have been opening my eyes for a very long time now and I’m not going to do it for somebody who doesn’t know what day it is.

Then my poor husband shows up and is so distraught that I open my eyes and tell him not to worry. Then the nurses have him ask all these questions…and despite being so tired I could just die on the trail, I open my eyes up and give him some answers. They take me off to have some very noisy tests run and then bring me back to my little cubicle. Some doctoe comes in and asks my husband what happened. Heck, I was there and I don’t know.

And then about seven hours later, they send me home with a diagnosis of Altered Mental State (which means we do not have a clue what happened but there you go.)

Then the very next day, right after dinner (6:30 like always) we go into the library and my HUSBAND has almost the very same thing….only I don’t think he is doing any thinking to himself. I call the EMTs and ask for a bus and then all seven of the adults standing around decide yeah, something is not right here and decide to take him to the hospital. I get to ride up front and let me tell you, having a broken arm seriously impedes ones ability in hopping up into the front seat. And the first thing I ask the driver is “So, have you always wanted to be an EMT?”

Nope. He is going to school and this job works with him with the hours. There is something on the radio and I ask if that is Gwen Stefani or Pink…because the backup music sounds a little the same. It’s Gwen Stefani. Then he asks me “So, do you have grandkids who listen to Pink?” Oh, no, no, no. It’s me. I’m a YouTube fanatic. In fact, right now, my very favorites are Sons of Mariel. George Pajon is aye! Caliente! He needs a bucket of water on strage when he plays.

So he asks me in espanol…Do you SPEAK Spanish? Por supuesto. I tell him I learned it when I was teaching in LA…mainly for the chisme (gossip) .

So he says ” That guy? He your husband? Because he looks very norteamericano.” Which means he looks really American, as opposed to someone who can speak Spanish.                                        and then he says “Because I thought maybe you were Cuban because of your accent. Very pretty. Sounds like running water.” Because Cuban Spanish IS very pretty and I learned from Cubans. Cuban Spanish is as different from TJ Spanish as a New York accent is from a southern accent.

So we randomly chitchat and then I’m at the hospital. My husband is unloaded and I go into the waiting room, where I meet my angel brother who brought money, because everyone knows that the first thing you do at the hospital is hit the cafeteria and get something to drink. We wait and I tell him that I really think I need to download some stuff for my i-pod to listen to at the hospital.

Lord have mercy! I have spent more time in hospitals in the last four years than I have spent in my own bed.                                                                                                                                                            This would work. A can load it up on my pink i-pod and I could sing and manage to amuse myself….something that is really hard to do in a hospital. Elle of course, won;t sit with me when I sing along to the music in public….public including the inside of my car. I can’t sing on any key but inside my head? I am the love child of Steven Tyler and Dolly Parton. Elle does not appreciate this behavior and all I can say is one day I’ll be gone and you  WISH I could embarrass you one more time.

So, Sons of mariel on every other track and then a general love fest to Robert Downey Junior.

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