Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Cardiac

Socks. Undies. Teeth. Brush. Book.
Socks. Undies. Teeth. Brush. Book.
Socks. Undies. Teeth. Brush. Book.

Surely on 15 minutes of sleep I could remember a list as simple as this, I thought to myself as I approached the hotel door. I slipped my key card into the slot and waited for the light to flash green.

Green.
Green.
Green.

I threw all of our things into the suitcase. The one with the gold ribbon. I would hate to lose it at the airport. I scanned the room one last time before jamming myself, my stuff, and my two friends into the 5th floor elevator.

4.
3.
2.
1.

Till the tears run down from my eyes
Lord - somebody - somebody
Can anybody find me - somebody to love?
(He works hard)
Everyday - I try and I try and I try

I answer my phone only to hear another family member seek out all the information I have.
-Yes, Grandma is conscious.
-No, Grandma is in a room now.
-No, the doctors haven't said anything.
-Yes, I just checked out and yes I will be staying at the hospital tonight.
-Yes, I presented my paper but am skipping the rest of the conference.
-No, Frontier will not refund or reschedule our flights.
-Yes, I'm pissed.

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