Just another Saturday night...
It started out that way. My husband who is a HUGE gamer geek, (and I use the term lovingly) was happily off to his regular bi-monthly game of d&d and I, I had just settled in to my laundry. My 14-year-old son was out and with the exception of my pain-in-the-ass dog (who shall from now on be referred to as THE URINATOR), I was alone. It was then that the phone rang, it was my brother-in-law - or as my husband lovingly refers to him as "the attention whore". What ensued was a relatively normal conversation for AW; him ranting that it was going to take 10 years for him to get out of this mess and how this person or that person (usually his ex-wife) did this to him or that to him -funny how it is always someone else. At any rate, a perfectly normal conversation for AW which went on for about 20 minutes and then ended.
Ahhhh back to my laundry. I managed to get a load in, turn the dishwasher on and settle in for a lovely evening of blog hopping when the phone shrills again.
I sigh, I get up and go searching for it; It is taunting me, hiding from me in whatever place I dropped it last. - if only I could remember where the hell that was.
The deck.
I grab it just before the answering machine picks up and pant "hello?"
Silence. I say hello again, preparing to hang up the phone and return to you, my lovely bloggy people when I hear AW say: "help me. Lisa. Help me" followed by some pretty genuine sounding sobs.
me: AW, (I don't really call him this but for the sake of anonymity that's how you shall know him) what is going on? What's wrong?
AW: Help me please
me: I can't possibly help you if I don't know what the problem is...(slightly impatient because dammit, I want to blog!).
AW: I can't find Mom, noone is around..help me.
The line goes dead.
Fabulous.
I call him back and get voice mail. I hate voice mail. I call my Mother-in-law, she isn't there.
Fabulous.
I call my husband to find out what he thinks I should do. (Before you judge my husband on his following response, you should know that this is not AW's first foray into the dramatic, nor his second, or even his third. This is bullshit scene numero quattro- that is FOUR. I believe the rule is: three strikes and you're out.)
Me: fills in husband of situation
Husband: Fuck him. Don't get involved in his bullshit.
Me: honey, I think I should go there and at least make sure he hasn't hurt himself. If (God forbid) he actually did do something and died... I would never be able to live with myself. You wouldn't either. I think I have to go.
Husband: This is what he does. Why do you think he called you instead of me, he has my number. Don't get dragged in Lis, he's a grown man. This is bullshit.
- I am totally paraphrasing but you get the gist. If I could regurgitate conversation ver batim, I would be an actor or something.
I call my son at his friend's house and tell him to get his ass home it's a family emergency and call my friend HR - because I sure as hell don't want to go there by myself.
Son at home and HR firmly ensconced in the passenger seat of my little red car, we head off. I have only been there once - to help him move his stuff out after a tiff with ex-girlfriend who took up residence in between bouts with ex-wife - she lasted 7 weeks.
Surprisingly, I found it with relative ease and park my little red shitbox behind his brand new SUV and head up the stairs to the front door - which is conveniently ajar. It is dim in his house and it takes my eyes a moment to adjust. When they finally do; I see him - face down on the kitchen floor, not moving.
I go over and poke him. (hey, I am not a professional - poking works for me.) He doesn't move. I look around the kitchen, there are no less than five empty bottles of vodka - in Canada we call them Mickies... I am still unsure of the correct boozy terminology for that sized bottle in the US but it's the little one. The one you can get like 8 mixed drinks out of or maybe 9 shots?
There is an empty bottle of pills lying on the floor beside his out-stretched arm , with the cap lying a few feet further out from that. I pick up the bottle. Sonata- a sleeping pill. On the counter we have....Ativan - an anti-anxiety medication. Neither of which I am sure should be chased with straight vodka.
I call 911. I explain my situation and give her the address. She asks me to poke him and see if i can rouse him (POKE HIM!!! ahah! I SO should have been a doctor!). I poke him. HARD.
He grunts.
Me: He grunted
911 operator: I heard him
How's that for scintillating conversation?
I roll him over on his side so he doesn't puke and choke on it - tasty. And I wait.
3 minutes later I hear the sirens. Lots of them. 2 firetrucks, 4 police cars and 1 ambulance to be precise. How's that for low drama?
*abbreviated version* - they ask, they do, they search, they remove AW to the closest hospital. I follow.
My husband has during all of this cancelled his game and is driving full speed out to AW's house. For those of you that game, you know cancelling out on a game = an extremely foul mood to begin with.
I tell him I have it handled. He growls at me. Turns out, he was coming out there for me, not for AW. He didn't want his psycho brother to kill me. I do so love that man.
Husband turns around and heads back to hospital in lieu of house (since the house is now vacated).
I get to the hospital sign him in, give his information and play the *hurry up and wait game*. My stomach growls. Shit. I haven't eaten yet. Husband/Hero gets there and we wait some more. HR takes my car home, picks up my son some dinner and goes about her Saturday night. My husband and I wait.
"Girlfriend-In-The-Wings" (the girl who is allowed in his life when he currently isn't with someone else ) shows up and we fill her in. For the record, she is BY FAR the best of the three and I wish he would see her for her good qualities - but hey it's not up to me. - And the three of us wait.
I finally get a hold of my Mother-in-Law and fill her in. She is on her way. And we wait. My MIL shows up with Father-in-Law in tow, we fill him in. And we wait.
O. And Happy Mother's Day. Nice timing AW. Nice timing.
*condensed version* My MIL is just as frustrated and worn out with this situation as my husband. She has been worn ragged by this, both financially and emotionally. She is a wonderful person and doesn't deserve this. Nobody does, but especially not her. Not on Mother's day. Not on any day, but especially not on Mother's day.
She doesn't coddle him as she has on the previous episodes, My husband doesn't coddle him. The doctors and Police don't coddle him. He gets no coddling. I am sure he is surprised because the previous trips involved much coddling. I'll bet he misses the coddling.
He is now in the psychiatric wing for a week-long vacation from reality. He is SURE that he read something about coddling in the vacation brochure. He is definately complaining to the management.
AW to his Mother this morning: But...what about my job? I don't want to lose my job.
Realistically, if you are trying to kill yourself...are you THAT concerned about keeping your job?
Just another Saturday night.
and I still have laundry to do.
You can read my husband's version:here
Ahhhh back to my laundry. I managed to get a load in, turn the dishwasher on and settle in for a lovely evening of blog hopping when the phone shrills again.
I sigh, I get up and go searching for it; It is taunting me, hiding from me in whatever place I dropped it last. - if only I could remember where the hell that was.
The deck.
I grab it just before the answering machine picks up and pant "hello?"
Silence. I say hello again, preparing to hang up the phone and return to you, my lovely bloggy people when I hear AW say: "help me. Lisa. Help me" followed by some pretty genuine sounding sobs.
me: AW, (I don't really call him this but for the sake of anonymity that's how you shall know him) what is going on? What's wrong?
AW: Help me please
me: I can't possibly help you if I don't know what the problem is...(slightly impatient because dammit, I want to blog!).
AW: I can't find Mom, noone is around..help me.
The line goes dead.
Fabulous.
I call him back and get voice mail. I hate voice mail. I call my Mother-in-law, she isn't there.
Fabulous.
I call my husband to find out what he thinks I should do. (Before you judge my husband on his following response, you should know that this is not AW's first foray into the dramatic, nor his second, or even his third. This is bullshit scene numero quattro- that is FOUR. I believe the rule is: three strikes and you're out.)
Me: fills in husband of situation
Husband: Fuck him. Don't get involved in his bullshit.
Me: honey, I think I should go there and at least make sure he hasn't hurt himself. If (God forbid) he actually did do something and died... I would never be able to live with myself. You wouldn't either. I think I have to go.
Husband: This is what he does. Why do you think he called you instead of me, he has my number. Don't get dragged in Lis, he's a grown man. This is bullshit.
- I am totally paraphrasing but you get the gist. If I could regurgitate conversation ver batim, I would be an actor or something.
I call my son at his friend's house and tell him to get his ass home it's a family emergency and call my friend HR - because I sure as hell don't want to go there by myself.
Son at home and HR firmly ensconced in the passenger seat of my little red car, we head off. I have only been there once - to help him move his stuff out after a tiff with ex-girlfriend who took up residence in between bouts with ex-wife - she lasted 7 weeks.
Surprisingly, I found it with relative ease and park my little red shitbox behind his brand new SUV and head up the stairs to the front door - which is conveniently ajar. It is dim in his house and it takes my eyes a moment to adjust. When they finally do; I see him - face down on the kitchen floor, not moving.
I go over and poke him. (hey, I am not a professional - poking works for me.) He doesn't move. I look around the kitchen, there are no less than five empty bottles of vodka - in Canada we call them Mickies... I am still unsure of the correct boozy terminology for that sized bottle in the US but it's the little one. The one you can get like 8 mixed drinks out of or maybe 9 shots?
There is an empty bottle of pills lying on the floor beside his out-stretched arm , with the cap lying a few feet further out from that. I pick up the bottle. Sonata- a sleeping pill. On the counter we have....Ativan - an anti-anxiety medication. Neither of which I am sure should be chased with straight vodka.
I call 911. I explain my situation and give her the address. She asks me to poke him and see if i can rouse him (POKE HIM!!! ahah! I SO should have been a doctor!). I poke him. HARD.
He grunts.
Me: He grunted
911 operator: I heard him
How's that for scintillating conversation?
I roll him over on his side so he doesn't puke and choke on it - tasty. And I wait.
3 minutes later I hear the sirens. Lots of them. 2 firetrucks, 4 police cars and 1 ambulance to be precise. How's that for low drama?
*abbreviated version* - they ask, they do, they search, they remove AW to the closest hospital. I follow.
My husband has during all of this cancelled his game and is driving full speed out to AW's house. For those of you that game, you know cancelling out on a game = an extremely foul mood to begin with.
I tell him I have it handled. He growls at me. Turns out, he was coming out there for me, not for AW. He didn't want his psycho brother to kill me. I do so love that man.
Husband turns around and heads back to hospital in lieu of house (since the house is now vacated).
I get to the hospital sign him in, give his information and play the *hurry up and wait game*. My stomach growls. Shit. I haven't eaten yet. Husband/Hero gets there and we wait some more. HR takes my car home, picks up my son some dinner and goes about her Saturday night. My husband and I wait.
"Girlfriend-In-The-Wings" (the girl who is allowed in his life when he currently isn't with someone else ) shows up and we fill her in. For the record, she is BY FAR the best of the three and I wish he would see her for her good qualities - but hey it's not up to me. - And the three of us wait.
I finally get a hold of my Mother-in-Law and fill her in. She is on her way. And we wait. My MIL shows up with Father-in-Law in tow, we fill him in. And we wait.
O. And Happy Mother's Day. Nice timing AW. Nice timing.
*condensed version* My MIL is just as frustrated and worn out with this situation as my husband. She has been worn ragged by this, both financially and emotionally. She is a wonderful person and doesn't deserve this. Nobody does, but especially not her. Not on Mother's day. Not on any day, but especially not on Mother's day.
She doesn't coddle him as she has on the previous episodes, My husband doesn't coddle him. The doctors and Police don't coddle him. He gets no coddling. I am sure he is surprised because the previous trips involved much coddling. I'll bet he misses the coddling.
He is now in the psychiatric wing for a week-long vacation from reality. He is SURE that he read something about coddling in the vacation brochure. He is definately complaining to the management.
AW to his Mother this morning: But...what about my job? I don't want to lose my job.
Realistically, if you are trying to kill yourself...are you THAT concerned about keeping your job?
Just another Saturday night.
and I still have laundry to do.
You can read my husband's version:
posted by Lisa at 10:37 AM
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