Mar. 13, 2003 - 01:54 MST

THE WONDERING JEW

Are Resting

March 12 entry

This day is finally over. Started with the uproar of putting the stuff back on the patio and waiting for the rug shampooer to come. He was late. He came, he shampooed, he got paid. Heather and I waited for the carpet to dry and then moved the stuff back into the apartment.

It got into the evening rush hour by then, we cleaned up and made our way to hospital to see Wilma or her kin.

Heather dropped me at the entrance and went to park while I sat in the lobby. Gripes me, but that is my life now.

We went up to ICU and met her progeny. It is the first time we had met them. Wonderful folks as could be expected, considering their mom.

Her daughter told us that her Mom is in critical condition. Sometime tomorrow will be 72 hours. From what her daughter said that is what the doctors told her would be the time that they would know if she will survive. Wilma is semi-comatose, reacts to instructions, such as wiggle your fingers, make a fist, etc. Not talking yet. Wilma is a battler, if anyone can make it from that point she can.

We talked for a short time with the kids and their mates, exchanged phone numbers and e-mail addys and then excused ourselves and left.

We were bone tired and discussed if we had energy enough to stop by Kentucky Fried Chicken for a bite and decided we did. Ate and then back out to the car and headed for home I looked over to the gas gauge and told Heather, "Honey, do you have enough left in you to make it to Costco for gas, we may have barely enough to make it there if we go now." I knew that my level of fatigue was too high to allow me to drive. Heather groaned and turned in the direction of Costco. We both know that we don't dare to run out of gas away from home as neither one of us can walk with a gas can. Car filled we carefully headed home, parked in the underground and made it upstairs.

Heather fell asleep watching TV, I held on to make an entry, found that they were changing servers at Diaryland and then crawled into bed for a nap. Slept about three hours, woke up, answered e-mail and finally Diaryland got their s__t together and thus this spate of words.

Now our place is painted and shampooed, all dressed up and no place to go. Heather and I will get stuff stowed once again as we feel up to it. The heavy stuff is already in. The strenuous, tiring stuff is done.

Not much satisfaction for us though, our friend lays in ICU in critical condition, her fate still not known. All Heather and I can do is pray for her.

Good night. The old saying is wrong, finally the wicked Are Resting . . . . . . . . . . .

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