(no subject)
I'm starting to realize how odd my job really is. It's mundane work, in an extraordinary setting. The work itself is really nothing you wouldn't do working at a fast-food restaurant, except that there's far more people. At least twice every Saturday and Sunday, I refill the mustard, ketchup, napkin dispensers, etc.. right underneath a real moon rocket. I take the trash to the compactor out back several times... and have an unobstructed view of two space shuttle launch pads while I do it. Driving there and back, I pass by all the facilities that let people leave this planet. Freaky.
In more somber news, my Uncle Mike is probably going to cash in his chips, soon. My mom flew up north to his hospital this morning, and it doesn't look good. I'm not all that broken up by this development. Sounds like a shit thing to say, huh?
The story goes like this; Uncle Mike was quite drunk one evening, and was crossing a main road walking home from the bar, when he was struck by a passing car. His brain and body were both irreparably damaged. He was gone.
That was in 1988. For the past seventeen years, he's been in various veterans' hospitals and nursing homes. I'd be hard pressed to say he was more than a few notches above Terry Schiavo. He could talk a little, answer some questions, and would recognize some people (like my mother and my other uncle). But he wasn't really alive. His mind wasn't really there. As far as I'm concerned, the uncle I knew died in that car accident.
I never actually saw him in his damaged state; so I only remember the pre-accident version. I don't remember much, but I remember. That person has been gone for nearly two decades. And as such, I made my peace with it long, long ago.
At this point I'm wondering whether I should accompany my parents up north for the funeral, if he does indeed finally pass away. I already missed the first week of classes this semester for orientation at work. Work is also an issue here. There's a lot going on that I'd need to just drop to go up there. I suppose I have a little time to decide.
In more somber news, my Uncle Mike is probably going to cash in his chips, soon. My mom flew up north to his hospital this morning, and it doesn't look good. I'm not all that broken up by this development. Sounds like a shit thing to say, huh?
The story goes like this; Uncle Mike was quite drunk one evening, and was crossing a main road walking home from the bar, when he was struck by a passing car. His brain and body were both irreparably damaged. He was gone.
That was in 1988. For the past seventeen years, he's been in various veterans' hospitals and nursing homes. I'd be hard pressed to say he was more than a few notches above Terry Schiavo. He could talk a little, answer some questions, and would recognize some people (like my mother and my other uncle). But he wasn't really alive. His mind wasn't really there. As far as I'm concerned, the uncle I knew died in that car accident.
I never actually saw him in his damaged state; so I only remember the pre-accident version. I don't remember much, but I remember. That person has been gone for nearly two decades. And as such, I made my peace with it long, long ago.
At this point I'm wondering whether I should accompany my parents up north for the funeral, if he does indeed finally pass away. I already missed the first week of classes this semester for orientation at work. Work is also an issue here. There's a lot going on that I'd need to just drop to go up there. I suppose I have a little time to decide.