September 5, 2004

When the phone rang, we had been asleep fifteen, maybe twenty minutes.

The last thing I remember before falling asleep was hearing somebody drive up and deliver the Sunday newspaper to a few of our neighbors. I thought to myself "The paper-person comes at 2am? Damn!"

The next thing I knew, Shorn was jumping out of bed to answer the phone. Me, I was rolling over towards my nightstand, turning my clock radio on and off, trying to make the ringing stop.

Note: If you ever have to reach me in the middle of the night, it may take several tries.

When I came out of my haze, I could tell that Shorn was talking to his mom, and something bad had happened. It was something about the line "Oh, god!" that gave it away.

And then I had a mental conversation with myself about how it was 2:30 in the morning, and people don't usually call at 2:30 in the morning unless there is bad news, and I wonder what the bad news is and hey, I should be listening to Shorn's conversation to figure out what's going on, but oh, he's not really talking, he's just listening, and man, he's been listening for a long time!

His conversation wound down with questions like "How long?" and "Transferred to Eden?" and "Do you have my cell number?" and ended with "Okay, we'll see you there", at which point I got out of bed.

Ten minutes later we were on the road, wearing only shorts and t-shirts, because it had been frikkin' hot earlier that day, and Shorn was giving me the rundown on how his Grandpa had ended up in the emergency room.

Something about falling and hitting his head, but being okay by the time the EMTs showed up, and staying home because he "Felt fine!", and not calling Mom, of course. And then, later in the evening, dizziness and vomiting, and then calling Mom and Liam, and then going to the ER. And then, something about bleeding on the brain, and CAT scan showing a progression. And finally, something about how it "Didn't look good" and "Grandma's taking it well."

We had a very quite drive to Eden hospital. That horrible limbo state when you try to organize your thoughts, and delay the freaking out until you have more information.

I kept thinking to myself "So this is what it feels like, getting THE CALL."

Fortunately, that would turn out to be the low point of the night.

We arrived at Eden before anybody else, and spent the next fifteen minutes in an empty ER waiting room, reading a three-year-old copy of Martha Stewart's Living and listening to some nurse-guy and a couple of paramedics talk about pay scales and the Bay Area housing market.

LindaMom, Grandma, Aunt Cheryl, and Liam showed up fifteen minutes later. The ambulance arrived shortly thereafter, but there was an indeterminate amount of prep time between him and us.

Note: if you ever need to go to the emergency room, grab sweatshirts, soda, and food.

The next four hours were a blur of cold waiting rooms, hard chairs and bad hospital coffee. We learned that Grandpa was awake and flirting with the nurses, even though there was enough fluid on his brain that he should be in a coma. This lightened the mood somewhat, and by the time the sun came up, we were getting pretty punchy.

We had an unknown amount of time before his transfer to ICU and evaluation for surgery, so Shorn and I took Liam and headed back to our place for breakfast and naps. We made it as far as IHOP, where we ate outrageously huge breakfasts, served to us by a uberperky waitress who reminded us of VSC (in her manic phase, of course). Halfway through the meal, Shorn's cellphone started buzzing: surgery at 8:30.

With a brief stop at Starnuts for venti mocha, doubleshots, and a bag of "Butter Croissants", we headed back to Eden.

I had been thinking about Passage since we had arrived at the hospital, and the metaphor got stronger as the day went on. We wandered the halls between ER and ICU, attempting to meet up with our family. Eventually we found them, and I handed them food and drinks out of my pockets. The wandered off again, and we set up camp in the lobby. As I drifted off to sleep on the cushy seats, I heard over the intercom: "Crash cart, alpha, stat!" and I thought to myself "Somebody coded?"

When I work up, my in-laws were spread out around the lobby, attempting to sleep. "Surgery went well." Was the news. Feisty old guy had come through with flying colors. "We'll be able to see him soon."

"Soon", in a hospital, is a very relative term. But by 2pm, Grandpa had been thoroughly visited, and we were comfortable leaving for the day.

After four more hours of sleep, and some fruit juice and soup, I'm starting to feel human again. We're resting when we can, because I'm sure tomorrow will be another long day.