A Crazy Day!

February 11, 2002
      OK - here we go---
     
      I had a CRAZY DAY - the vet receptionist asked if all my weekends were like this!
      OH YES!!!!
      First of all, backing up to Thursday, when we had the Dr. look at what had been a small lump, and thought to be a bug bite or a GCSF shot gone wrong. The lump on my son's leg was red and ugly so they decided, "No chemo, hospital stay for IV antibiotics". His counts were low so the spider bite or bacteria from a GCSF shot had caused a skin infection. He was neutropinic, and I still can't spell that.
      We had planned on making the "Team in Training" training session that night.
      He had signed up to be the honoree of the Peninsula Tri Team again while still honoree of the Duathalon team and BOTH teams were to be there.
      They diagnosed him at 9:15 AM. They did a second blood test because we didn't want him in the hospital. I fed him a little breakfast at about 10AM. I had my weekly Starbucks coffee. Cafe Mocha decaf low-fat no whip Grande.
      And we sat. And we sat. And we sat. While they hunted through the hospital for a room.
      By around 2:30-3PM, I said - "Look, we can go to training and be back (6:30 meeting) and check in then!"
      He was trying to edge to the door. And when caught, and "talked to", he got even by wielding a portable camera at the nurses. Got some surprised poses.
      "NO. No. No." they said. "You cannot leave. You must stay here."
      I said, "But this is important for mental health!"
      Finally, exasperated, I said, "If it is so important that he be on IV, why isn't he hooked up now?"
      "Gee. You're right. But he needs to be watched."
      "Well - he's in the waiting area (actually in chairs outside it to stay away from sick kids) and I can watch him for shock."
      So they found a bed and a room in the Clinic and stuck him in there. Hooked him up. Knocked him out with Benedryl. Bene by IV is pretty intense.
      I went to Stanford proper for food. Too early for pizza it turns out - got grilled chicken with cheese and trimmings. He swallowed it whole at this point. My feet, from striding in high-heeled boots, hurt. (I had not expected to walk - what was I thinking?)
      We sat some more.
      Finally we were sent to 3 South.
      He was in a room by himself. Good. That's always the best deal. You can relax. Turn the TV up. Sprawl in a chair or the bench. Easy access to the bathroom.
      I located the microwave, since every floor has stuff set aside for the parents who practically live in the hospital - this is the Children's hospital. I can bring in coffee tomorrow and food.
      I stayed until 11PM - on a hard plastic chair - slightly better than the hard plastic chair I had been in all day.
      I had ferried dinner up to him from the deli because, in high-heeled boots, I wasn't doing the Stanford walk again! My feet really hurt.
      Friday I went in before work, hauling food, clothes and stuff, and set up his room for him. Big suitcase. Stuffed.
      Drinks. Chips. Magazines. Computer. Stuff to entertain the boy.
      After work, I came back and ---- he was moved!
      That is always unnerving.
      I found him - moved into a smaller place sharing a room with a kid who sounded like he had pneumonia. Oh that's good! I sorted our stuff. (We seem to have lost his favorite hat - his brother got him that hat - but I didn't catch that at the time.)
      So I stayed again - no chair - back to that hard plastic bench. The one I slept on for hours and hours before.
      My hips hate that bench.
      He did tell me - "I can go home, maybe, Saturday".
      I told him - "It's vet day tomorrow, and your brother is helping me rescue the truck" (which now has LowJack on it). "It will be later than usual when I get here." He was sulking.
      I was planning to get the cakes to the surprise party for his brother even if the younger son couldn't go.
      He was not best pleased at that.
      Now Saturday arrives.
      I wake up at 8PM - already late for the vet. Fortunately, it's only Ranger and Trim who are going for a bath and shots. They are far easier to catch and confine. Little Bit is still a terror. Unless we cold-cock that cat, she will not be groomed.
      I sleep in sweats under my feather comforter, and all I added was a smear of lipstick and a bra, sneakers and eye liner, possibly in that order.
      I raced over to the vet (long drive) and dropped them off.
      Since I was close, I went to Home Depot because the mailman was sticking mail in the mailbox laying on the hood of the VW - my having ripped the box off the garage. This was a hint that I needed to hang a new one.
      I got a mailbox, tried for a garment rack (can't find any), and ran to the grocery store. There, I grabbed two 1/4 sheet cakes, a white one with Happy Birthday on it, one chocolate with Oreo's on top, about $20 in lottery tickets (why not), the Rat Race DVD and came home. Earlier my younger son and I had spent days trying to find a cake decorator that could do a fox. We had to drop that idea.
      I was wondering how to reach my older son to set a time for the truck rescue when he called me (10AM). Good. Because the phone number that he gave me for his home phone is off by one digit.
      I said, "How fast can you be here?"
      My head was already spinning a bit by now.
      "I need a shower and then I'll get there." He was bummed out. No one had called on his birthday, which was Friday. I kept silent.
      Of course, I was miffed that I was "no one". And I asked, "Wasn't a $400 windshield for your truck a pretty good present?"
      OK - he's coming.
      I hid the cakes under the comforter in my bedroom and shut the door. This does not necessarily keep the boys out of my room, but it's an attempt.
      I hung the mailbox, more or less, and watered the front yard.
      I was checking email and annoyed at the 1.7 Mbyte elephant someone was sending me (takes 30 minutes to down load). I have a 56K modem but your connect speed is NOT dictated by your modem, it is the speed of the Internet, which is slowly becoming a crawl. Until a new backbone is in, we will have slower and slower service. DSL be damned.
      My older son has a habit of just walking in without knocking.
      Startles me every time.
      He got me again.
      He had stuff. He left it. We scooped me up and left in his truck to go get my truck.
      On the way, he took me to CISCO to see his machine. $300,000 SUN equipment rack - lots of connections (fiber) and looks of RAM (Gigs and gigs) and several processors. He is becoming an Oracle database "God". He already has saved 8 data centers with his little temp sensor program. He did an interface that has received director-level attention it is so good. He will be a programming "God" of CISCO soon. The people that know all, do all, and are not argued with. Much. He's very good.
      I was impatient. I tried not to be.
      Then we went for my truck.
      I was fussing. "It has no dings yet. It had better still have no dings." I remember that Toyota drove the van into a pole when it was 1 year old. That makes me nervous.
      My truck was fine.
      His windshield, however, had not yet been ordered. Egad!
      So he will get it Tuesday. I will ferry HIM around. Musical Toyotas. The van, which got serviced on Wednesday, is behaving nicely.
      We come home. On the way, he flags me up beside him and says he has to run to CISCO, a server went down.
      When I get home - he is there. He had rebooted the server and raced me home!
      He tells me I was doing 75 in my truck. I usually try to stay under 70. It is still "breaking in".
      OK. Now he wants to put Operating Systems 9.0 and 9.1 on my G3 laptop, which is running 8.5. 9.2 is also out but I have no CD for that yet.
      He wants to put 9.1 on my G4 minitower but I am not having any of that yet. He also wants me to get over to Op system 10 - but not all my software can handle that yet.
      We do tthe op sys for the G3.
      He wants to borrow some other software I have (I let my kids play with stuff - if they find they "need" it - I buy it for them.)
      I need to find an older version of the product since the new one is an upgrade - one I haven't even put on my system yet! I insist I get to load my system first. This requires a frantic search of messy bookshelves, bookshelves I am threatening to repack in boxes. I am that intent on moving back to San Diego - my younger son will go there with lots of stuff. We are still arguing - he wants the Master bedroom. (Well, he actually wants the whole house! I remind him often that I WILL be retiring there!)
      We find serial numbers and CDs and we get my older son's system loaded.
      During this, I am watching the clock, waiting for a call from the vet. And then I get a call that my younger son can go home. "Come and get him."
      I am overwhelmed, because I have low blood sugar, am tired, and have too much I am trying to coordinate in too little and fast-diminishing time.
      I freak out.
      I tell my older son, still playing with the computers, his and mine, "I have to be somewhere tonight. I have things to do!" I can't play computer bingo all day! It's getting late! I can't do this now!
      My son tries to calm me down. He has been, after all, "helping me". For which I am grateful. Normally.
      "Is it work?" I bite my tongue. No---I have to get things together for your surprise party! You need to leave!
      I say nothing.
      He tells me that I need a day off.
      He's right.
      I do.
      (I went and ate peanut butter and three Fig Newtons. Felt better. How I ruin my diet.)
      With the cake in the bedroom, I didn't dare leave my older son loose in the house.
      And he could have stumbled over the surprise party email.
      As it was, I was printing the directions and shoving them in my purse, slamming the window shut when he started to walk to my machine. He had almost caught me. Probably why I was loosing it.
      I told him I didn't trust him loose in the house and made him come to the vet with me.
      He was upset that I didn't trust him. I ignored him.
      What could I say? A ruse is a ruse.
      At the vet, the cat was wet because he refused to be brushed. He was, in fact, loose in the check-in room. They had given up when he snarled and locked him in there. Ranger? Snarling? When I opened the door, Ranger was up on the windowsill, wet and meowing. I grabbed him and dumped him into his cage. They had tried to groom him on the table where they had given him his shots. Egad! Of course he was pissed.
      The dog is beautiful - I give that about 10 minutes. She digs wallows in the back yard. Where the lawn used to be.
      My older son held the cat cage in his lap, Ranger meowing all the way home.
      All the way in, my younger son and I, on previous vet visits, had meowed right back at him.
      I refrained dong that this time after I did a few. My older son was already looking at me strangely.
      OK. Home.
      I need to get the kid!
      So I finally get my older son out of the house, clutching my CD read/write drive. I got it a year ago and had never opened it. Since Apple did not honor the "Buy the G4 laptop - get a CD R/W drive" deal for either one of my kids, I felt bad. He needs a CD burner. Let's see, $600 CD burner, $400 windshield. OK. That's enough for his birthday.
      He finally leaves at 2:30PM!!!
      I get to the hospital at 3:15 (I had said I'd be there by 3PM) and leave the van in the emergency area - for loading and unloading - and pray that the kid is packed as I had told the nurse to tell him to do.
      Ha!
      The kid is zonked.
      He always looks so cuddly when unconscious - I sometimes leave lipstick kisses on his forehead - drives him crazy.
      Attacked in his sleep by a hit and run mother!
      Not today!
      The computer is packed up. Nothing else!
      I open the suitcase, shake him awake, toss clothes at him, and literally throw stuff into the bag. Cram it in. Food, clothes, whatever.
      I grab computer, pillow, blanket, big suitcase (not the overnight one) and move him out.
      They hand me an RX form.
      I take it and go. I resemble a pack mule. The kid is grouchy, as always when abruptly awakened.
      I race home - it is now 4PM and the party is back in San Jose (another 40 minute drive) at 5:30!
      We have discovered by this time that the doctor did not sign the RX.
      I called Stanford and they are to call the pharmacy directly.
      OK. I can handle this.
      I toss the boy into the shower, round up clothes, get him back to his room, and jump in my shower and I must wash my hair!
      I have a new faux-fur trimmed blue sweater and new Nolan Miller jewelry that I will throw on. Blue velvet.
      I wash and dress with the speed of light and even blow-dry sort-of my hair. I look far different then I have all day. I am now "put together!" More or less.
      So, dressed, cakes in a QVC box, I ran to Long's drug store for candles (a 2 and a ?) and the drugs.
      Except that the drugs were not there! No call!
      OK. I can handle this.
      We head out. Now, after telling me he was bummed on the phone, my older child had spent the day telling me that he was going to San Francisco for a party. Which was confusing me.
      We took the directions I had earlier, and headed out. If there was no party when we got there, oh well!
      We found the place. I was driving the truck. I go fast in the truck.
      We get to the party at 6PM. In good enough time.
      We walked up behind my older son at the restaurant ------- and got him good!

John and Chuck, Feb. 2002

      He was surprised.
      "Now you know why I was loosing it!" I said.
      He shook his head.
      "I was afraid that you'd sit on the cake!"
      Everyone thought it was funny that he wouldn't leave so I could get ready.
      But we got there.
      I was now a total wreck!
      I had a 1/2 glass of red wine. Doctor's orders, honored occasionally. This was an occasion.
      After the party, my younger son and I went BACK to Stanford - they hadn't signed the Rx - and hadn't called it in by 5:30 when we left - so----
      ---turns out their paging system went down!!!
      Another system I had "touched".
      Anyway, we are OK. The drugs are ready - for tomorrow morning pick up since the pharmacy is now closed. (And that lie is a whole 'nother story!)
      They said that my son was OK for the night.
      My truck, which is NEVER supposed to be at Stanford, survived the parking lot. Good thing. Ding-free and counting.
      I am now exhausted.
      I crashed as soon as we were home.
      I have no idea what was on for the Olympics.

Me and My Boys, Feb. 2002