THE END OF HOSPICE VACATION

FINDING THE HUMOR 5

After waking up at 10 a.m. Tuesday, my mom only stayed up for two hours. She arose again at 6 p.m., but basically only long enough to say hi to Joe and Jenna and then was awake again for a little while toward 11 p.m. 

She slept the rest of the day and didn't even notice that Bert was in the room for several hours. I'm about to head back to work today, and mom is going back home, ending an interesting five days at this hospice facility.  

Goodbye my home from Friday night until Wednesday morning. 

Mom had a total of 22 visitors during the five days, counting my dad and me. So 20 people that didn't have to come, and that really touched my heart and helped me not be sad. Thanks, guys. 

People came from as far away as down the street -- Kelly and Nicole -- to as close by as Barcelona -- Gillie and Brian. Wait, switch that, reverse it. 

When mom came to at 5 a.m. Wednesday morning, it was the latest in a long line of adventures we've had the past couple weeks. 

She refused to stay down and insisted on being let out the bed because it was time to go. I continued to tell her no and blocked her path of exit. 

Or so I thought. 

I dozed off around 5:30 and when I opened my eyes a few minutes later, mom was out of the bed and slowly walking!

Somehow she had escaped from the other side of the bed that is propped up against the wall and has two rails to boot. The bed was slightly angled away from the wall after two nurses got on each side to reposition her Tuesday night. 

Still, there wasn't much room to squeeze out of there between the two rails and also between the bed and the wall, especially for someone who hasn't walked in a week and who has trouble breathing. But dammit if her spirit -- and hard-headedness-- aren't still very much a ticking. 

I jumped out my chair and rushed over to hold her, as she could collapse at any moment. She ended up making a lap around the bed before a nurse helped her lay back down. We then pushed the bed all the way against the wall. 

Here's what she said over the next two hours after we got her down: 

-- I'm mad at you.

Me: Why?

Mom: Because you made me get out of bed. And you wouldn't tell me what was wrong with me. 

-- We both gonna die?

Me: I don't plan on it. 

Mom: So just me?

-- (looking at me) Why are you trying to drive me crazy? Why are you doing this to me, Tina?

-- The little girl got sick, then her brother, and now he's sick. 

-- I got to get up and put on purple shoes. 

Me: Why? Where you going?

Mom: Why are you trying to make me put on purple shoes and die?

SHE TOLD ME TO TURN OFF WRESTLING

FINDING THE HUMOR 4

My mom slept from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. yesterday. Not a bad gig if you can get it, right? And then she slept from 11 p.m. to 10 a.m. Tuesday. 

I learned from a nurse that tumors had entered mom's brain, and that's the reason she speaks non-sensically now. 

Here are yesterday's highlights:

-- Gene, you're so full of shit. Unbelievable. So full of shit. (Pause). So full of shit.

-- I want my cake now. 

Me: You have cake? Where?

Mom: Down the street. 

-- Mom told some story I wasn't completely paying attention to. I came in at the end. 

Mom: So you gonna text him?

Me: Who?

Mom: Muhammad Ali. 

-- I think the food comes out a shoot. 

-- Let's play happy games today. Gene happy games. Gene happy games. 

-- There was lots of baby talk. 

Where's the baby?

Me: What baby?

Mom: My baby. 

She then asked if the mother -- no longer mom's baby apparently -- was keeping the baby and if the father was OK with it. She was really worried about the baby and wanted to leave to go get it. 

Mom: So the baby's ok?

Me: Yup. 

Mom: Well that's good. Wish someone would have told me a lot fucking sooner. Give me a bag of candy. 

HER LONG-TERM MEMORY IS STILL GOOD

FINDING THE HUMOR 3

My mom persisted from 5 a.m. to 7 a.m. Monday morning to please help her get up. And since that's been her entire life's mission the past four days, I helped her up. 

She can't walk anymore, so I had to hold her up. But she did enjoy sitting on the edge of the bed and stretching her legs across a chair instead of the bed. 

The sad part came when she asked me to go into the other room to retrieve some clothes. 

Me: Mom, we're not at home. 

Mom: Where are we?

Me: A hospice room. 

Mom: Whose sick that we're here for?

Me: You. 

Mom: Why? What's wrong?

That was tough to answer. It was like she was hearing it for the first time. 

Later the nurse asked where she was. Off and on the last few days, she kind of thought she was still at home but now she knew she wasn't. 

Her response: Folsom. 

Nurse: What year are we in?

Mom: 1974. 

Other highlights from the past 24 hours:

-- She looks at Paul. "Is that a pass to get into Playboy. In Playboy 2, they said I'll guess we will go to the tit pool. She said I didn't know we had a tit pool. It looked pretty fun. Wish I knew how much it was to join."

-- Mom was all kinds of fidgety last night. I'm trying to calm her down as she continually puts her feet over the bed railing. 

Mom: I'm gonna kick you right in the stomach.

Me: Relax. 

Mom: (Making a fist): I'm gonna relax you right in the face. 

-- Did you know there's an alligator party tomorrow?

Me: No. You going?

Mom: Yeah. They have lots of parties. 

-- How come I can have candy, but I couldn't have it yesterday?

Me: You did. I gave you some. 

Mom: But why couldn't I have some yesterday?

Me: You did yesterday. I gave you some. 

Mom: I know. But why couldn't I have candy yesterday?

-- She's picking at the catheter tubing. 

Me: Can you stop doing that?

Mom: I'm getting my bottles. I don't want to lose my bottles. 

-- I ask mom if she remembers the visitors she had Sunday. 

Me: Do you remember Kelly coming?

Mom: Yes. 

Me: Paul?

Mom: Yes. 

Me: Dad?

Mom: Yes. We all went bowling. Then y'all made up some bullshit and probably went fishing. Y'all made up some bullshit. 

I HAVE TO GO TO THE BATHROOM

FINDING THE HUMOR 2

After cutting through some insurance bullshit, an ambulance arrived Friday afternoon to transport my mom to River Regions hospice care. 

She was asleep when the EMTs tried to move her off the bed. Her eyes popped open and got as big as I've ever seen them. 

"What the fuck!?!?!"

After some more miscommunications Friday night and Saturday morning, mom's medications were finally figured out and she got a little comfortable. I slept fine in her room Friday night, though Saturday night was a different story. 

She has said the title of this post at least 100 hundred times over the past few days, no matter how vehemently I explain that she has a catheter and a diaper. 

Here's some of the stuff she's said in her hospice room the past few days. Once again, a big thanks to all that stopped by. 

-- Did you set the ice machine to when you want the baby born?

-- They don't serve ice in Panama City. I was like I need more ice. And she was like you have so much. And I was like I need more. Six, seven, eight cubes. 

-- (looking at the TV) Change the station. I want the last letter to be Z.  

-- Am I sitting on dad? Is he in the corner?

-- Nicole made a bunch of candy for Christmas for her family, co-workers, etc. She gave a box to mom, who loved a particular kind. 

Me: You like the pink candy?

Mom: Yeah. It was so good. Can't wait to wear it out. 

-- How do you expect me to get out of here?

Me: Out of where?

Mom: The horse. I don't want to let the team down. 

-- Me: Who visited you yesterday?

Mom: He took out the shotgun and killed the cop. 

Me: Who?

Mom: The guy she was with. 

Me: Whose she?

Mom: I dunno. 

Me: When was this?

Mom: Yesterday at my house. 

-- Was Melissa on the team last year?

-- Can I wear your shirt when I go home?

-- You should start walking around. 

Me: I think I wanna go to sleep. 

Mom: You get yourself sick when you do that. 

-- Her old sheets are sitting in bags on the air conditioner. 

Mom: What are those?

Me: Sheets. 

Mom: But what's in the bag?

Me: Sheets. 

Mom: I got that. But what's in the sheets?

She also insisted on being handed the old sheets. She opened the bag and rummaged through them. 

Me: What are you looking for?

Mom: The plug. 

SHE ASKED ME ABOUT GRADUATION, TOO

FINDING THE HUMOR

The last three days have been a brutal roller coaster as my mom entered what I'm calling the fourth stage of dying. Each day had a major incidence. 

But that's not the point of this post. Mom has said the darnedest things over the past few days, so I'd thought I share a few of them with you. 

"Am I having a baby?"

Me: Nope. 

"Well, you never know when."

"I have a lit cigarette somewhere. 

Me: You quit months ago. 

"It's gonna burn the house down."

"I have to get up and pee."

Me: You have a catheter. You don't have to get up. Just go. 

"I'm gonna piss in your eyeball!"

"Why don't they ever tell the spouse, or the kids?"

Me: They do.

"They didn't tell me."

Me: Tell you what?

"About the mattress. Took four or five days."

"I've been calling Beyonce."

Me: What she say?

"Nothing. I could just here her saying fuck you and hanging up."

There was also a story that ended with the cops showing up at our house, her pointing at a girl on the TV and telling the nurse "that's Gene's girlfriend, Nicole," and her calling steps 1, 2 and 3 of some process bullshit."

LET THERE BE LIGHTS

WELCOME TO ROCK IS JERICHO

Paul and I saw a heavy metal band named Fozzy at the House of Blues two weeks ago. We're aware of said band because the frontman is Chris Jericho, who is in both of our top 10 wrestlers of all-time. 

We both do actually like the band, though. We arrived on time at 7 to learn that Fozzy wouldn't take the stage until 10:30. Yikes, I couldn't sit through three other heavy metal bands. I don't even like heavy metal. 

So we left and came back just after 10, ran into an old high school chum -- who I didn't remember until he told me his last name -- and moseyed our way up to what amounted to the sixth row. 

There were only about 200 folks there, but Fozzy played like it was 20,000. Just a great show, made better by this old guy in the corner with a towel just going to town with his rocking out. 

He first wore that jacket when he returned to the ring in 2012. Yeah, I know. Badass. 

After two hours of non-stop rocking, alas the show ended. But the Fozzy tour bus was parked directly in front of the HOB, so we gathered near some other fans waiting for Jericho. 

One by one they all went home until it was Paul, me and two skankyish chicks, who were let backstage with the bassist. 

At about 2 a.m. Jericho emerged with a plastic cup hanging from his mouth -- his signature drink is vodka and ice. He put his bags up, signed Paul's Fozzy record, took pictures and chatted. 

We discussed his scarf and then started talking about his podcast. He asked me who my favorite guests were but cut me off in the middle of my answer. 

"What about the non-wrestling ones?"

I hesitated. 

"You know there's more to life than wrestling."

I rattled off some rock guests he had, but it was too late. He knew I only cared about the wrestling. 

So here was one of the greatest wrestlers of all-time, a guy who has been a fan of wrestling since he was 5 and he was telling me that there's more to life. Wow. 

He then excused himself as the skankyish duo had returned to the street. "I have to um go take some more pictures." 

Yeah, boy!

AROUND TOWN WITH NICOLE

Nicole and I went to Christmas in the Oaks a few weeks back and had a good time. 

We rode some tilt-a-world ride for free because there was no line and the worker just restarted it. We rode the train, and that was sweet and romantic, except we sat in the first row and could smell the exhaust. But some nice lights. 

The carousel was also a good time as I acted a fool on top of my horsey and the little kid in between us was not having as good a time as his mommies would have liked. 

Last Friday, I went to Nicole's office Christmas party at Le Pavillon. 

The party did liven up after this picture was taken. 

The hotel serves peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to its guest at 10 p.m. nightly, so we partook. 

As we left the hotel, a drunk guy on Poydras stopped us. 

"That hotel has PB&J at 2 a.m., right? Guys, we got to come back."

Me: "No. At 10 p.m.  They almost out."

"Oh shit."