Devious Journal Entry

Sun Sep 28, 2008, 8:41 AM

Well it is rather late but I've been sleeping in a hospital sofa contraption that pulls out into an uncomftrable yet somewhat tolerable mockery of a bed. That I've been sleeping in jeans when trying to catch that thing, that as of late has been elusive and the dark rings under my eyes can attest to that once more, called sleep does not help nor does the rough polo shirt and the 2 hour bright light flicking invading nurses. Shifts come and shifts go yet I am constant like some sort of constant element to the whole situation.

The cancer in my grandfather's brain ate his motor skills not his thinking skills. However as a consequence he cannot talk outside of difficult to decipher mumbles as well as being barely move his limbs. I can't really leave him there without being able to fend for himself so there I've stayed for the last 7 days or so I believe I left last Friday. I do, as I'm sure as I've mentioned before, have no concept of time in the current state of my life, dates are simply meaningless.

That's fine I'm in no hurry to go anywhere or do anything else I'm where I want and need to be. These things don't happen twice in your life, college isn't going to suffer cancer and pass away. My grandfather is and as I believe I've stated in previous entries I have been taking utmost care of him to my abilities and he apreciates it yet part of me, most of me, wishes I simply wish I could do more.

On the hospital stay? They moved us up I said so before. The room was something akin to a hotel room it had a fridge and a closet. It was pleasant enough I never ordered a tv, grandpa never watches them anymore and I have no great love for it either. I finished reading my long forgotten nightmares and dreamscapes book by stephen king then got halfway into the prosecution of george bush for murder by Vincent Bugliosi which is amusingly if not slightly annoying (This book was a huge best seller) so far what I've written in those ancient past entries merely rephrased so I basically could've written the first 2 chapters. It does however have fun insights as when we invaded Iraq Hussein wasn't dreaming of mass destruction quite the contrary he was writing some crappy pulp fiction about an arab prince saving the middle eastern world, last drafted pages of said book are dated invasion day. Only in chapter two so I'm sure it'll enlighten me on things I don't know. I feel kinship with the author when he said something along the lines of I'm not the brightest or most important of persons, I just looked at it with logic.

I get along great with the hospital staff up there for the most part. I'm polite and I help the nurses as long as they're polite themselves and they are so everything's great there. My favorite nurse has to be this middle aged asian lady that speaks saying things like "I take your vital signs now yes?" she's extremely sweet and I call her my favorite nurse, anything she apologizes for I tell her it's fine because she's my favorite nurse. I like making her happy the head nurses and mean to her. There was also a Nigerian nurse who was flirting with me (I think) if being extremely nice and talkative is, people tell me it is. She had scar patterns on her arms they piqued my interest but I never got to ask about them. When I came here I assumed anything with dark skin and an accent that wasn't gangsta talk was jamaican. Metting Three, Four with her, African nurses helped me realize and be able to tell the diffrence.

The doctors have an odd thing for me. I guess after walking into all the othe rrooms and finding grown men and women or elderly as patients or companions finding an 18 year old sleeping in an uncomftrable sofa-thing looking like a tornado survivor all messy hair, rumpled clothes and unshaved shin and hearing the cheerful statmenet I've been there for 6 days shocks them more so when I tell them I'm putting college on standby. I guess they all charged off into college and heard of their family members passing away as phone calls or letters just an assumption though. I also found the ones in the white robes were much friendly and caring than the ones in the buisness suits. They compliment me until it's awkward, I simply end up cutting them off or looking pointedly at grandpa. I'm not comftrable with compliments I can smile them away as polite chatter but when they persist they make me uncomftrable. Were talking of about 7 different doctors not including nurses. I'm scared they'll bake me a cake or something one day.

There's a nice cafeteria where I was spoiled enough to not want to cook anymore since the food is healthy and cheap and agrees with my tummy.

Mom came over a few days ago. Were bickering and caring for each other as always. She puts her coffee in the cafeteria, I sneeringly tell her it'll explode and she calls me mean. It does explode, I clean it up complaining "I told you so" she proclaims one must do such things it's like an adventure. I sarcastically remark how cleaning her coffee explosions ain't my idea of an adventure and we laugh and sit down to eat. This is an example of our more nice and pleasant moments we still fight seriously and constantly. It seems we are not meant to coexist in peace, she's dominating, loud and blindly confident and I simply don't care what others do if I want something done I do it myself, I don't talk if I don't have anything to say and I'm confident in myself not in others and still hold to caution in all things. One thing that drove me up the wall was her talking in sure and stern absolutes which I usually dismiss as irritating got to be seriously angering since the hospital and the state of events isn't a place to be proclaiming everything will work out and be fine simply because of she wills it and says so and leaving it there. We argued and I in a calm voice though no doubt tinged with bitterness got her to understand this isn't a time for certain predictions and she needs to either make sure herself or have alternate plans. She got it eventually and I was relieved to see a change in her demeanour torwards the situation.

Of grandpa himself he can do little but lay on the bed. The cancer in his brain ate his motor skills up like candy, he can't move and his words come out as mumbles. I would've stayed anyway but this is another reason for my 24/7 stay at the hospital is that he can't fend for himself both verbally and physically so I feel extremely protective of him. He will discharged on Sunday or Monday with a feeding tube and an oxygen tank.

Once again I am interrupted needlessly, I must make breakfast for others. Amusingly enough I woke up earlier to write... so much for that.