He was unconscious, although recent reports state he's been awake this morning for a while. He was supposed to me medicated to be unconscious, but they found out no one gave him the medicine, he just lost consciousness on his own. Gotta love the Jax Hospital. Christine decided it's now or never, and even though Fran isn't dead yet, they think his liver has finally failed, and he's got 48 hours tops. She grabbed a rental car (actually, they screwed up her order, and then upgraded her, for free, to a minivan), and left this morning for West Virginia to pick up her sister Debbie, and then she's driving down to Florida. It's a 2-day drive (16 hours).
Since Fran isn't dead yet, and since I don't know when I'd be back, I couldn't take off from work, so I stayed behind. Once Christine gets there, she's going to apprise me of the situation, and then I'll probably fly down on Friday or Saturday. Our friend Kris Trader will do all the house sitting with CR, the dogs, and so on until we get back in the middle of next week.
What a mess. In interests of privacy, I won't go into the mess of children, ex-wives, siblings, and the past of Fran. It's a complicated melange of old feelings with many players, none of whom are bad people, just victims of circumstances so deep that I am not fit to judge them, and pretty much everyone is forgiving each other at this point anyway. Christine has a really good heart to take care of all this, considering she's getting nothing back but heartache and pain.
Someone once told me that pain is God's way of reminding that you are still alive. My late friend Joann used to say that hurting is a side effect of a caring individual. "We hurt because we care," she told me once. "It is a burden of compassion." Christine is certainly shouldering her weight in that.
This situation changes by the hour. It changed twice since I started this entry.
I am also getting tired of people asking how I am doing. I mean, I know they mean well, and I don't fault them for it, but I just don't want to answer that question anymore. I'd rather not know how I am doing right now, because it's not helping. I want to be totally ignorant, and just try and make it moment by moment. The real victim here is not me, anyway.
This entry was originally posted at http://www.punkwalrus.com/blog/archives/00000435.html