Friday, July 01, 2005

Stacy Vacation 2005: Day 1: My Nephew Hates Me

5:30am.

I'm usually dreaming of Winona Ryder in a wet t-shirt around this hour.

Or Moira Kelly in a slinky nighty.

But I digress. Or undress, depending on what time of day it is.

The following blog will be filled with pathos, ethos...you know, both of 'thos.

Hold on. I'm congratulating myself on the creative energy it took to even type the last sentence.

But back to goddamn 5:30am.

This was the only time the Wicked Witch of Dialysis, Miss Evelyn felt necessary to admit me to the clinic.

I knew I wouldn't get much sleep the night before because I was so excited about seeing my sister and meeting my nephew for the first time, so I just bit my lip and allowed the lovely red-headed vixen known as Toni to adminster my needles.

The burning started about 5:45am.

I know. You've heard it all before. Dialysis. Burning needles. Big frickin' yawn-o-riffic boring.

It turns out that the pressure was up to 400ml when it should be barely be tapping above 350ml.

I don't need to iterate it, but I was pissed.

I rolled back into bed around 9:15am and set the alarm clock for 11:30am.

I dozed off for maybe 45 minutes before my adopted brother Ted called to wish me a great vacation.

Nothing against Ted, but I should have turned my cell phone off. But I'm not that bright.

I had been preparing for this vacation for weeks: worked out constantly, bleached my teeth, got a haircut...you know, the usualy metrosexual stuff to make myself look my best regardless of how dialysis has torn me down.

The plane touched down in Tucson around 10:30pm Friday night.

The tires on the landing gear should have melted. It was 97 degrees outside.

I finally made it down to the area where they allow your friends and family to meet you oustide the security check area.

I didn't even see my baby sister as I walked by her to the luggage carousel.

That's how exhausted I was after two bags of peanuts and a glass of juice.

My baby sister never looked so beautiful. She still has her cropped short and she was wearing a beautiful sleeveless dress.

In the past when I would give my sister a hug, she would use the least amount of pressure possible to return the hug...like I had terminal cooties or something.

Which I do. Just in case you're wondering.

For the first time in five years I received a solid "boy, I sure miss my brother" kinda hug.

I'll never forget it.

Now here's where I could blame my lack of intelligence on jet lag, or three hours of sleep, but I just can't explain away the first mistake I made with my little nephew Nakai.

I woke him up.

I didn't even think to open the car door slowly. That he might be asleep. But he might be cranky from being p so late to pick up his uncle.

"Wwwwwwwaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!!!!"

The kid's got lungs, that's definatly for sure.

My sister had been kind enough to provide me with a room at the historic "Hotel Congress." During the great fire in the 1930's, the local Tucson police caught John Dillinger and his gang of misfits after they discovered firearms and over $26,000 in cash from a bank heist that had happened some time earlier.

It's very rustic and their are rumored to be ghosts, but I can't speak of any so far.

Except for the one in the shower.

Before turning in for the night, I wanted to get all the low fare, Southwest Airline grime washed from my soul, so I took a shower.

I could almost hear the pipes laughing.

First scalding. Then freezing. Then back to burning...no wait...freezing.

I frantically turned the old school knobs in hopes of some relief, but to no avail.

The room had no air conditioning, but you'd be surprised how well a swamp cooler works if you give it a chance.

I took my cocktail of Vicodin and Tylenol PM to get to sleep.

I was suprised when my sister called the next morning around 9:30am, because I don't remember waking up like I usually do.

This vacation may still have some promise.

Tomorrow I officially meet my nephew, get to know my brother-in-law and catch up with my baby sister.

I really wish I hadn't waited so long.

Please join us tomorrow for another edition of the Stacy Vacation 2005, where you'll hear Stacy say..."He said my name!"

1 comment:

  1. What a dopey adopted brother! Adopted brothers should really be more considerate of their brothers and their sleeping patterns. Have you ever considered being estranged from him?

    My heartfelt and sleepfelt apologies.

    ReplyDelete