DQ Reporting For Duty
Sorry for being MIA again. Life gets crazy and busy and sometimes just plain stupid. I’m still without my laptop, which is the tiniest issue right now.
My brother in-law Congo, Mary’s husband, had a heart attack. Actually, he had two. One was earlier in the week. He had to undergo angioplasty. He’ll be in the hospital for a few more days. They say he’ll be okay, but it’s still scary shit. Please send good, healing, artery unclogging vibes his way.
Speaking of scary shit, my sister Angie is getting married to Papa Roach on December 5th. Okay, so maybe it’s not that scary. It’s about time those two did something besides shack up and screw. Did I type that out loud?
The two crazy kids will be taking a cruise and getting married while there. Does that mean I don’t have to buy them a present, since I won’t be present? I think they ought to buy me a ticket for the cruise. Yeah, and then I’ll buy them a present. Sounds fair to me.
My stomach issues are subsiding. I’m still taking a bucket of pills everyday to allow me to eat normal food. I finally managed to eat a cheeseburger that didn’t kill me. But, with that wonderful hunk of all beef patty, I made a small pasta salad. I tossed in a handful of black olives to salt it up a little and you know what? There was a friggin’ pit in the can of sliced olives that landed in my salad. Of course the label warns you this may happen, but really how often does it occur?
There I was taking in all of the yummy goodness that the pasta salad had to offer, when, “crunch” and instant pain came over my entire head. I bit down on that olive pit with a wisdom tooth, and it cracked right down the center.
How friggin’ unfair? I can finally eat, and then poof, I break a damn tooth! The dentist saw me a few days later and yanked that sucker out. No thrills or frills of laughing gas, just a handful of shots to the gums and roof of my mouth, which by the way hurt like a mutha. Then he took out his pliers and yanked, shook, and pulled. It was very barbaric. I think I felt it dislodge from my eye socket, jaw and ear drum. Oh, you didn’t know? Yeah, apparently, those things are all connected to your wisdom teeth. At least that’s what it felt like.
A week later, I can chew most foods and digest them too. My eye socket doesn’t hurt anymore, but my jaw still does. So yay me for being mostly all better!
I know that description seemed a bit dramatic, but I’m trying to live up to the new nickname given to me by my mother, DQ. And no, that doesn’t stand for Dairy Queen. It’s short for Drama Queen. Whatever.
She claimed I was being dramatic when I told her about my thigh muscle that was killing me one day. At the nursing home, I walk several miles up and down hallways. One particular day, I was walking along with my weary legs and it felt like my muscle was sliding right off of the bone. I’m telling you, it hurt, really, really bad. And my mother, that horrible woman, never offered up a hint of sympathy.
Instead she said, “Uh, Lo, you think maybe that is a little dramatic? I mean, seriously, your muscle just slid off of your bone?”
“It’s okay DQ. Go on with your story.”
See how she treats me? She probably told my brother in-law Congo that he was being dramatic too while he was having a heart attack. She’s just evil like that.
There’s more news from the Lane Estate coming soon to a blog near you. So stay tuned.