Dear Hearts,
I bought the five-inch diameter round, regal, black marble ashtray about twenty years ago when we were at a family reunion. It was some kind of silent auction. I remember competing with someone for it. There was a set—two Romanesque relief vases, and a three-inch tall oval cigarette holder with a lid.
I smoked my peace pipe out it. I used it as an ashtray. I smoked my peace pipe with it.The is ashtray survived the divorce. It moved from my parents’, to the rental, to the Albatross, to The Holy City. I was using it as my outside ashtray. Because believe it or not ashtrays are a rare commodity these days.
Like cigarette lighters and ashtrays in cars. Oh! There is no ashtray! I won’t smoke then! No. I will just throw my butt out the window. Oh, I can’t find a stylish ashtray for my home! I quit. Nope. I go to Amazon or eBay. Or make do. Not smoking because I can’t find an ashtray…is kind of like saying Trump will stop being such an asshole because he has realized how important compassion it.
I digress.
So, when I MOVED here—I brought my good ashtrays with me. I don’t break ashtrays. I just don’t. But I have broken like three here.. WTF? I ordered these cheap plastic ashtrays—I didn’t realize they were bright red and blue and PARTY size. 1970s in a box. Good Lord, they are ugly. So since the spring, my marble ashtray has been my outside ashtray. I appreciate a nice ashtray. The other day the chair and table (on which the ashtray sits) were behind my car and I was in a hurry and backed over them.
I fucking backed over my marble ashtray. A small chip on the bottom. Amazing.
Why was I in a hurry so much that I backed over my ashtray, table, and chair? G-Pa has not been well. Monday night Aunt Faerie and I were in the ER with him. The next day the urologist. The next day his GP. The next day the ER. It wasn’t until Thursday that it was decided that he had a raging bladder infection.
I am overly sensitive or hyper-aware of dementia or cognitive decline in G-Pa because of what I lived through with Pop, who had Alzheimer's. But I knew something wasn’t right. And you don’t have two bladders worth of pea that has to be catheterized out if there is not a bladder issue. Yeah, Dr. P.—his problem wasn’t urological? Fuck you and the degree you got in the Cracker Jack Box.
Initially, in getting G-Pa to the ER from Aunt Faerie’s house I showed him some old-fashioned Jersey driving. 75 in a 55. Tailgating. Flashing brights. Excruciating pain in his lower left quadrant. I knew I would be faster than an ambulance.
ER DOC: “Why did you speed?”
15 minutes earlier…Aunt Faerie: “There is an emergency and Papa needs to go to the ER.” Now, Debby can remain calm and unaffected on the outside (although her insides are mirroring Dante’s seven layers of Hell) during Armageddon. So when she says it’s an emergency—I fucking move.
ME TO ER DOC: “Why are you a fucking idiot?”
I didn’t say that, but WTF?!
“Um, because I didn’t know what was wrong and I wanted to get him here as fast as possible,” I said incredulously. Gotta be nice to the hospital staff. I had one gun blazin’,’cuz they was not workin’ fast enough.
I knew. A UTI.
And with a UTI comes severe confusion. Aunt Faerie and Bugsy (who has been kidnapped by the Pod People) were to leave on vacation Tuesday and I was to
FUCKING FINALLY GET MY TATTOO WEDNESDAY!
Bugsy said, “go with the flow” (yeah, the old Bugsy is definitely taken away by Rod and Co.—but whomever they replaced Bugsy with is not even close to the old Bugsy—so the Martians are slipping in their technique). He said, “go with the flow” like four fucking times. Anyway, Aunt Faerie and Bugsy put off vacation for two days and it was down to the hour of like if I can still get my tattoo.
Was God trying to tell me something?
G-Pa got up and took himself to the GP an hour early. I was up. I was there. I told him Aunt Faerie had delayed vacation a second day. His appointment was at 11.30. At 11.10 (yes, there are precise time people) Aunt Faerie showed up while I am on the phone telling Mom that her dad disappeared. Aunt Faerie and I were dumb-fucking-founded.
G “It’s acid reflux.” Fuck you. I know the digestive system and you do NOT get acid reflux pain in the lower left quadrant. Gas---maybe, but not heartburn. Aunt Faerie and I just looked at each other. This man could not pee the night before. He was in pain.
Mercifully! Aunt Faerie offered to take him for pie and a drive. I could make my tattoo! Woot!
I’ll leave the tattoo story for a different post. I love it. Compliments: beautiful, powerful, restorative, amazing, incredible, it suits you, Oh My God that is a work of art. Yes, it hurt like a motherfucking bitch.
“I am going to Chenna and you are going with Aunt Faerie for pie.”
“Why are you going to Chenna?”
“To get a tattoo.”
“I don’t like tattoos on women, I do not approve.”
“Well, it was Mom and Dad’s birthday gift to me.”
“I think they are wrong.”
“Well, I’m 40. I am fairly responsible and I don’t drink, so you’ll get used to it.”
“I will be ashamed to go out with you if you have a tattoo.”
“Okay. You’ll learn to deal.”
Aunt Faerie snickered. Now, I don’t know if she talked to him or not, but he fucking told me it was beautiful when I got home. Rod Serling and his Martians again. My supervisor at work took a picture of it, so she get the same kind.
Boom. Drop the mic.
Yesterday, Aunt Faerie and Bugsy left for vacation and G-Pa took himself to the ER. I had to be at BB. I am here now. I didn’t get a lunch today. But, I didn’t really want to go home.
All I wanted last night after picking up drugs for G-Pa and stocking up at Walmart was coffee and a cigarette. For an hour I tried to explain the antibiotic. I was on the verge of tears.
But, no episode. Huh.
I had seen this before. He was cognitively not okay. Thank God, he trusts me and I am now doling out his pills. I took all the drugs in the house and put them in my underwear drawer. After I had finally gotten him some soup and got him settled with the TV I could have my coffee and cigarette. Except it was near 7.30 and I had to work today. Oh, and my warm weather has gone away. It was basically dark.
G-Pa had to water the flowers. So I moved close to the steps and out of the way of the flowers.
“Oh, I broke your ashtray.”
He had dropped and broken my marble ashtray. The very one that I ran over—he broke.
“Do you have all the pieces?”
I was too tired to be devastated. The 1970s are back. Now keep in mind that ashtray stood in the same place for the ENTIRE TWO MONTHS I WAS GONE. But, last night, he broke it. It was in the exact same place.
That first cigarette will still… Then I was sprayed by his hose. I gave up. I was in bed at 10 after 10 with a bag of peas on my tattoo. Promotes healing.
He was absolutely amazed that I was going to work this morning and when Mom talked to him on the phone, he could not understand why the Sunday sermon was not on and she was not in Church.
Oh, also. I lost my glasses.
Tonight I gotta get ice cream and drugs for myself from Walmart and I am bringing home pizza which will make him happy.
I will also buy myself a coffee.
That’s all I want. Coffee, a cigarette, and to read.
Sometimes glasses get lost, ashtrays break, and infections fuck with old people’s minds. Huh, maybe that’s Bugsy’s problem…well, if it is he needs to stay infected.
But, I helped save a dog, gave out as much compassion as I could today and yesterday, got an incredi-fucking-able tattoo, and an old, old man is safe, warm, and taken care of.
“You can’t always get what you want…But if you try sometimes you just might find…you get what you need.”
Luke 8:9
“And I say unto you, Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and he shall find; knock, and it shad be opened unto to.”
In the verses before that—Christ says to be persistent. Don’t stop knocking.
I am askin’, seekin’, and knockin’…My Lord.
Smoke ‘em if ya’ got ‘em. God Bless
In the name of The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; Mother Mary, Saint Brigid; Saint Jude; Saint Therese Lisieux; Saint Ailbhe; Saint Peter; Archangel Michael, and my Guardian Angel, Jed.
Grateful For:
Health
G-Pa being not confused as much
My tattoo
Faith
Family
Amish Pumpkin Cinnamon Rolls
Good coffee
Warmer weather
Hope
My time at the Garden yesterday--thanks for putting one aside
PS: The people whose dog I helped save. You will have a reckoning.
PPS: I typed this Friday then a whole bunch of shit happened like G-Pa in the ER and being admitted. Fuck. I have had it. Four Xanax yesterday. I was gonna blog properly today. But, I’m not. Instead, I am going to go for a run and then have my coffee and cigarette. It can all change in a second. All of it.
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