How Aqua Got Here
So, it's Aqua's birthday today.
Aqua's determined to get level her druid today, cuz he's been stuck on 21 for months and if she's gonna turn 22 today, HE MIGHT AS WELL TOO. But that's sorta not the point of this post. So, moving on.
Parental and grandparentals decided we should go out to dinner, cuz going out to dinner on a Wednesday's really what I wanted to do, but eh. Thought that counts, or something. Since we're in Oxford, of course, this involved a half-hour drive both ways. (To Indiana, by the way. Oxford's really close to the border.)
So on the way back, we're just talking, cuz that's what you do on car rides with the family. And my mom suddenly busts out with, "So guys, tell me about the timetable. On this day 22 years ago..."
Aqua, being the shameless snarker she is, promptly goes "what, did something happen that day?"
A couple of things, actually.
Mind, I'm well aware that around the day I was born was the most exciting time of my life. (And I remember it clearly... *cough*) But I'd never heard the full story, in order, which eventually resulted in "Hang on, hang on. I know you had the stroke after you had me, but then what the heck were you doing in Boston in the first place?" So I got the full story. And now I'm gonna write about it. Why? BECAUSE I CAN.
Mom and Dad lived in New Hampshire, so if you didn't like the presidents we had in the 80s, blame them. Anyway. The night of July 22nd, Mom gets this absolutely horrible headache--she had a history of migraines, but the usual 'take two advil and hit bed' approach was not working. Finally Dad called the doctor, who talked to Mom, who was told within five minutes to get to the hospital.
To which her reaction was along the lines of "I've known that for fifteen minutes, where've YOU been?"
So they took her to the hospital, looked her over for a bit, and informed her that she had an aneurysm in her brain and they had to transfer her to a hospital in Boston, where they'd deliver her baby by C-section and then do brain surgery. She was in enough pain that her only response to this was "I don't care what you do, just DO IT!", which I imagine is the best way to go into brain surgery.
So Grandma and Grandad get the call at something like 4 in the morning. Grandma gets an early flight, she has no idea how she was able to get one so quickly, and ends up in the hospital in Boston, where she totally forgets that Mom was having a kid until the nurses ask if she wants to see me. Understandable, but I still had to whine that THAT gives me a warm fuzzy feeling inside.
Grandad stayed home and went to work that day, where everyone badgered him so much that his "Me going there won't help anything" turned into "Okay, I'm going!" by that night. Ah, peer pressure. *snickers*
After Mom got out of surgery, they tell her how it went and that she now has a beautiful baby girl (HAHAHAHAHA babies are ugly *cough*), and show her a Polaroid picture. This marks the last time in my life I ever cooperated for a camera.
So now the nurses are ready to let in Dad and the grandparentals to see her. (At this point Mom thinks it's something like 8 the next morning. Three months after she got out of the hospital, she'd finally learn that it was in fact midnight the next day.)
Grandma asks Dad if he's ever seen someone just coming out of surgery. Nope. So the way she tells it, she decides she needs to prepare him for what he's going to see--that people coming out of surgery look just horrible, and since it was brain surgery they'll probably have shaved her head, and all that.
So they get in and Mom's sitting up, smiling, good color, just a little patch on the side of her head, and I can just imagine the look my dad must have given her. Hehe.
Apparently the doctors warned Grandma and Grandad that the next two weeks or so would be 'like a time bomb', since they had to keep Mom's blood pressure up for treatment, which increased the risk of the aneurysm rupturing. Of course they couldn't tell her this because stressing and worrying about it would just make it worse. Five days later, kaboom.
The nurses get in to check on her and hey look, she's had a stroke. So they ask her the usual round of coherancy questions--who's the President, that sort of thing. And then they ask her what day it is.
To which she replies "There's a calendar on the wall behind you," proving that yes, my shameless snarking DOES come from that side of the family. Though apparently, this response was actually good because it told them that her cognitive skills were functioning properly. Who knew, smartasses are smart.
So yeah. All very exciting. And now I finally know what the heck she was doing in Boston BEFORE I was born.
Doesn't mean I have to like it. Being born in Boston apparently prevents me from ever being a true townie. *sob* Oh well.
**Aqua out**
Aqua's determined to get level her druid today, cuz he's been stuck on 21 for months and if she's gonna turn 22 today, HE MIGHT AS WELL TOO. But that's sorta not the point of this post. So, moving on.
Parental and grandparentals decided we should go out to dinner, cuz going out to dinner on a Wednesday's really what I wanted to do, but eh. Thought that counts, or something. Since we're in Oxford, of course, this involved a half-hour drive both ways. (To Indiana, by the way. Oxford's really close to the border.)
So on the way back, we're just talking, cuz that's what you do on car rides with the family. And my mom suddenly busts out with, "So guys, tell me about the timetable. On this day 22 years ago..."
Aqua, being the shameless snarker she is, promptly goes "what, did something happen that day?"
A couple of things, actually.
Mind, I'm well aware that around the day I was born was the most exciting time of my life. (And I remember it clearly... *cough*) But I'd never heard the full story, in order, which eventually resulted in "Hang on, hang on. I know you had the stroke after you had me, but then what the heck were you doing in Boston in the first place?" So I got the full story. And now I'm gonna write about it. Why? BECAUSE I CAN.
Mom and Dad lived in New Hampshire, so if you didn't like the presidents we had in the 80s, blame them. Anyway. The night of July 22nd, Mom gets this absolutely horrible headache--she had a history of migraines, but the usual 'take two advil and hit bed' approach was not working. Finally Dad called the doctor, who talked to Mom, who was told within five minutes to get to the hospital.
To which her reaction was along the lines of "I've known that for fifteen minutes, where've YOU been?"
So they took her to the hospital, looked her over for a bit, and informed her that she had an aneurysm in her brain and they had to transfer her to a hospital in Boston, where they'd deliver her baby by C-section and then do brain surgery. She was in enough pain that her only response to this was "I don't care what you do, just DO IT!", which I imagine is the best way to go into brain surgery.
So Grandma and Grandad get the call at something like 4 in the morning. Grandma gets an early flight, she has no idea how she was able to get one so quickly, and ends up in the hospital in Boston, where she totally forgets that Mom was having a kid until the nurses ask if she wants to see me. Understandable, but I still had to whine that THAT gives me a warm fuzzy feeling inside.
Grandad stayed home and went to work that day, where everyone badgered him so much that his "Me going there won't help anything" turned into "Okay, I'm going!" by that night. Ah, peer pressure. *snickers*
After Mom got out of surgery, they tell her how it went and that she now has a beautiful baby girl (HAHAHAHAHA babies are ugly *cough*), and show her a Polaroid picture. This marks the last time in my life I ever cooperated for a camera.
So now the nurses are ready to let in Dad and the grandparentals to see her. (At this point Mom thinks it's something like 8 the next morning. Three months after she got out of the hospital, she'd finally learn that it was in fact midnight the next day.)
Grandma asks Dad if he's ever seen someone just coming out of surgery. Nope. So the way she tells it, she decides she needs to prepare him for what he's going to see--that people coming out of surgery look just horrible, and since it was brain surgery they'll probably have shaved her head, and all that.
So they get in and Mom's sitting up, smiling, good color, just a little patch on the side of her head, and I can just imagine the look my dad must have given her. Hehe.
Apparently the doctors warned Grandma and Grandad that the next two weeks or so would be 'like a time bomb', since they had to keep Mom's blood pressure up for treatment, which increased the risk of the aneurysm rupturing. Of course they couldn't tell her this because stressing and worrying about it would just make it worse. Five days later, kaboom.
The nurses get in to check on her and hey look, she's had a stroke. So they ask her the usual round of coherancy questions--who's the President, that sort of thing. And then they ask her what day it is.
To which she replies "There's a calendar on the wall behind you," proving that yes, my shameless snarking DOES come from that side of the family. Though apparently, this response was actually good because it told them that her cognitive skills were functioning properly. Who knew, smartasses are smart.
So yeah. All very exciting. And now I finally know what the heck she was doing in Boston BEFORE I was born.
Doesn't mean I have to like it. Being born in Boston apparently prevents me from ever being a true townie. *sob* Oh well.
**Aqua out**