Sorry, Dad!
"Dad, I knew I was a pain in your neck, but I didn't mean to put you in the hospital!"
The_Dad(tm) has been in rough shape lately. What started as a run of the mill stiff neck last week turned into paralyzing pain over the weekend. (Which may have something to do with the kitchen he just gutted.) All of my parents have levels of pain tolerance that are off the scale, so when The_Dad(tm) asked to be taken to the ER on Sunday, we knew it was bad.
Thankfully, every symptom that could have pointed toward this being a heart thing was ruled out. (No numbness in the hands or feet, no radiating pain down the arms). It's a run of the mill stiff neck... just a spectacularly bad run of the mill stiff neck. So it was my turn this week to look after Dad, just as he looked after me a few weeks ago when I was laid up with that lung thing that was going around (which you got an earful about if you're following me on Twitter).
After watching him spend most of Sunday supine, immobile, and in teeth-clenching agony, I was startled to find him pre-dawn Monday not only up and about, but milling around in the front yard with neighbors in various states of bathrobed undress.
Turns out, the house diagonally behind my Dad's was on fire.
By the time I got there, the Orange Fire Department had things well in hand. Apparently, I missed the 30 foot flames mere moments before I arrived. From all accounts, all of the college aged renters got out safely, though I heard rumors of a missing cat.
Luckily, the morning was cool and rainy, not hot and windy, or the neighborhood would have fared much worse. Many tall trees surround that property.
The neighbors milling about included the folks next door (the ones who always greet me with my childhood nickname when I show up at the polling place) and the lady from the house on the other side of them, who I haven't seen in years. She said, "Hey! Mr. Lego!" (which puts her memory of me at least as far back as '03) and reintroduced me to one of her twin daughters, who I hadn't seen since she was a lanky 6th grader in about 1983 or so. Perhaps she was younger, I never was quite sure how old those girls were, I just knew they were younger than me. It was startling to see her all grown up, and I'm positive she had no idea who the beanied, bleary-eyed man across from her was. Still, we did the polite thing and smiled and shook hands.
As the column of smoke from the back yard turned from black to white, we recalled memories of the last fire to happen on our block. The Janicek House (still known as such, though the Janiceks have not lived there in decades) across the street from my Dad's burned in the very early 70's, killing their young daughter who was trapped on the back stairs.
I have very vivid memories of that morning, which was gloomy and overcast just as Monday was. I have equally vivid memories of the nightmares I had for months afterwards, perhaps spurred on by gruesome tales spread by the neighborhood kids of what that little girl's last few moments must have been like.
That remained unsaid on Monday though, and we talked instead of how the neighborhood rallied around the family, with garage sales and such to raise money for them. There's still a small town feel on that block, which I didn't realize I missed until Monday morning.
At any rate, I'm still checking on The_Dad(tm) every 6 hours. I'm hoping he's well soon enough to save me some of those muscle relaxers, because they sure do look like fun!
~j
The_Dad(tm) has been in rough shape lately. What started as a run of the mill stiff neck last week turned into paralyzing pain over the weekend. (Which may have something to do with the kitchen he just gutted.) All of my parents have levels of pain tolerance that are off the scale, so when The_Dad(tm) asked to be taken to the ER on Sunday, we knew it was bad.
Thankfully, every symptom that could have pointed toward this being a heart thing was ruled out. (No numbness in the hands or feet, no radiating pain down the arms). It's a run of the mill stiff neck... just a spectacularly bad run of the mill stiff neck. So it was my turn this week to look after Dad, just as he looked after me a few weeks ago when I was laid up with that lung thing that was going around (which you got an earful about if you're following me on Twitter).
After watching him spend most of Sunday supine, immobile, and in teeth-clenching agony, I was startled to find him pre-dawn Monday not only up and about, but milling around in the front yard with neighbors in various states of bathrobed undress.
Turns out, the house diagonally behind my Dad's was on fire.
By the time I got there, the Orange Fire Department had things well in hand. Apparently, I missed the 30 foot flames mere moments before I arrived. From all accounts, all of the college aged renters got out safely, though I heard rumors of a missing cat.
Luckily, the morning was cool and rainy, not hot and windy, or the neighborhood would have fared much worse. Many tall trees surround that property.
The neighbors milling about included the folks next door (the ones who always greet me with my childhood nickname when I show up at the polling place) and the lady from the house on the other side of them, who I haven't seen in years. She said, "Hey! Mr. Lego!" (which puts her memory of me at least as far back as '03) and reintroduced me to one of her twin daughters, who I hadn't seen since she was a lanky 6th grader in about 1983 or so. Perhaps she was younger, I never was quite sure how old those girls were, I just knew they were younger than me. It was startling to see her all grown up, and I'm positive she had no idea who the beanied, bleary-eyed man across from her was. Still, we did the polite thing and smiled and shook hands.
As the column of smoke from the back yard turned from black to white, we recalled memories of the last fire to happen on our block. The Janicek House (still known as such, though the Janiceks have not lived there in decades) across the street from my Dad's burned in the very early 70's, killing their young daughter who was trapped on the back stairs.
I have very vivid memories of that morning, which was gloomy and overcast just as Monday was. I have equally vivid memories of the nightmares I had for months afterwards, perhaps spurred on by gruesome tales spread by the neighborhood kids of what that little girl's last few moments must have been like.
That remained unsaid on Monday though, and we talked instead of how the neighborhood rallied around the family, with garage sales and such to raise money for them. There's still a small town feel on that block, which I didn't realize I missed until Monday morning.
At any rate, I'm still checking on The_Dad(tm) every 6 hours. I'm hoping he's well soon enough to save me some of those muscle relaxers, because they sure do look like fun!
~j