Andare, Partire, Tornare

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I'd bow at Phil's feet anytime

The men of my husband’s family do not take aging well. When Bemo’s dad hit 30, he locked himself in the bedroom for a couple of days, and when he turned 40, well – let’s just say it wasn’t pretty. So as Bemo’s 40th birthday was yesterday, he just had to go and make it a memorable one.

I had invited Cherbear and Persia and Persia’s daughter over for some munchies and TAR-premier rewatching (Just doing my part to increase the population of Bagwan TAR, Guru Phil presiding, love is TAR and TAR is love). Bemo had been fine all night, tucking away a good dinner and some ice cream, but then started looking a little pale. What’s more telling is that he got very quiet, which is not at all Bemo’s natural state. He got short of breath, and said that he felt like there was a heavy weight sitting on his chest, so we all kind of took alarm and started watching him a little more closely. When he started to feel worse, Cherbear opted for 911, which seemed to make the most sense at that point. Cue an evening of EMTs, ER waiting rooms, surly hospital receptionists, Bemo being shaved in little patches all over his body (hee!), little machines hooked up to him going beep beep, and an overnight in the hospital so they could run a stress test and check out his enzymes. Despite the concerns of the ER doctor, who was pretty convinced he had had a “cardiac event,” it turned out to be a false alarm, thank God. They think it was a symptom from his frequent acid reflux, and put him on a medicine that’s a close cousin to Nexium or Prylosec, because they’re concerned that his esophagus might be taking a beating. He slept at home all of Sunday, and was able to go to his first day of teaching today, and is going into work tonight.

Nothing like having an EMT wish you happy birthday, I suppose.

Little Miles has gone to his new home. It was a strange feeling to see him go, because I knew I couldn’t keep him, but I felt like such a traitor for giving him up! I’ve gotten over it, and Dexter seems to be taking the whole thing in stride, to the point where he’s hopping up on the bed to sit with me (as well as attacking my toes through the blanket). So what we hoped for might happen – having his brother out of the picture might actually make Dexter more interested in spending time with people.

Back to work tomorrow. I’ve got some leave time accrued (ok, a lot of leave time accrued) and I need to figure out how I’m going to spend it. I was pondering taking a week to write on my thesis, but Cherbear and I saw a commercial for Independence Air the other day, with some insanely cheap fairs to London that I must check out…

5:38 p.m. - 2004-07-12

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

previous - next

latest entry

about me

archives

notes

DiaryLand

Blogroll

random entry

other diaries:

caerula
dichroic
sometoast
mechaieh
weetabix
trancejen
unclebob
smartypants
clcassius
badsnake
bafleyanne
abendbrot
marn
batten
herworship
sundry
keryanna
idiot-milk
saint-louise
skim
ursamajor
goodsandwich
culotte
seussie
cariboutwo
tanisanne
madamepierce