Please.....Don't light the oven, my head is in it.

Lets get a couple of things handled first:

My dear Elle...I am very sorry about your nephews friend. Its hard enough to get through life at that age without having to deal with something as tragic as that. Being forced to question your mortality at such a time in your life simply isn't right...or fair. My prayers and wishes go out to everyone who has been touched by this.

And....I truly feel terrible I forgot your birthday but I hope you had a great day...in spite of me forgetting ;)

To everyone else, you have my apology and believe me, I am suitably contrite.

Okay, on to the business at hand....Things have been, how can I put this eloquently.....oh, I know.....fucked.

As many of you know, my Dad has been going through all that chemo shit and until the past couple of weeks, hasn't been effected much by its side-effects. That was until the itching started. Its pretty much a constant a thing, itching from one part of his body to another. So, now on top of the fatigue from the chemo, he can't sleep more than a couple of hours, then the itching wakes him up, plus the blood cancer caused his arthritis to go into 'overdrive' and its hard for him to walk. I feel so bad for him, looking at him, knowing he's tiring rapidly of all of this, but never a complaint.

My Mother on the other hand, makes me want to scream "WTF is your problem, NOW?" She's been in semi-poor health for several years now and all during that time, Dad waited on her hand and foot.....even more that I thought he needed to but fuck, I'm not gonna tell my Dad what he should or shouldn't be doing.

Mother is and has been, 100% convinced that she has some sort of illness, not a simple one mind you, but one that is basically a death sentence. I have had her to every one of her fucking doctors and they have all told her basically the same thing (after running tests and tests and tests)....the reason she's tired and run down and losing weight is because she doesn't fucking eat! Her muscles ache because shes having to burn them as fuel because shes using up more calories than shes taking in....and the lack of any exercise just makes the problem worse. Actually, her Lung doctor told her point blank "If you don't start eating, you will die...and that won't be far off'

Did this have any fucking effect..oh yeah....for maybe 7-10 days. She won't take her 'psyc meds'

because of one lame fucking excuse or another, even her Dr. told her besides making her feel 'less anxious' it would increase her appetite...nope, those weren't good enough reasons, evidently. In short, she won't help herself but will moan and complain about how she feels. All this during a time that my Dad could really use the help.

Today, I bring Dad home after he got a transfusion. He's in a real good mood and we talk all way the back. We walk in the house, there's Mother, sitting on the couch with 'that look'. Theres also some lady (Joyce) there, a friend, whom I had never met. I ask Mother whats wrong? She's weak (duh?), and her lower back hurts when she bends over. She went to the Dr. last week so I ask her if he had called with the test results? No, but I'm probably going to have to be put in the hospital, she tells me. Okay, I am in no fucking mood for this, so I tell her 'Call him then, call me at work and let me know...I gotta go'. She then tells me 'Joyce' can take her to the hospital if she has to go.

Let me tell y'all something, No one, I mean no one (well, maybe my sister if she would deem it at all fucking necessary to come back for a week) would take either of my parents to the hospital except me, and my Mother knows that very fucking well...but I wasn't playing that fuckin game, so I said "That would be nice of her". Fuck that shit...I was (and am) pissed by the whole motherfuckin thing.

'Joyce' then decides its her unalienable right to stick her fucking nose in my fucking business......."Efen...I think your Mother should call the doctor now and you should wait to see what he says".

"Really, Joyce..thats what you think I should do?....You think the Dr. is going to drop everything and take her call or do you think I should just sit here for 5-6 hours waiting for him to call back?"

She gave me that "I have never seen such an uncompassionate son in my whole life' look...thats fine, I gave her my 'Shut the fuck up and mind your own fuckin business with your 1980's hairdo' look.

Dad sat there and as I left, he gave me his 'I don't blame you' look. Dad was always a cool guy ;)

The more I thought about it later, I decided Mother is correct, she does need to go in the hospital...and if they don't find anything wrong, then she should head over to the 'psyc ward' for a month or two. Besides that getting her hopefully better, Dad and I need a break.

Yeah, I know...I sound like a real prince of a guy. Ya know what, right now I don't give one flying fuck.