lost in the supermarket

this dream, like many others i've had, jumps around from "scene to scene". none of it makes any kind of sense in how it links together. i met up with a few of my coworkers at a waffle house that served pretzel sticks before they gave you waffles. one friend of mine took on a waffle challenge in which he had to eat a stack of ten waffles in ten minutes. he admitted defeat shortly thereafter and when the waiter came to take our plates away he scolded my friend for making such a mess and not even finishing his waffles. we all go outside to take a look at a brand new jeep i purchased. somehow i suddenly snap into a kitchen where i was cooking a meal for the same group of people from work. one was crying, the other taking bits of the meal and throwing them on the floor. i say i've had enough of their shenanigans and get into my brand new jeep. i start driving down the road and it's night time. i drive up to a house where i see a lot of men in jumpsuits revving up their motorcycles. i get out of the car and ask them what they're doing and they say their ice cream truck is on its way. they ask me if i want to tag along and i agree to. we arrive at a grocery store where they unload and storm in. it becomes a hide and seek and destroy whatever you can lay your hands on type of game. all of slipknot decided to ravage the store, and soon they turned on me. it became a goose hunt, me being the hunted. so after being tarred and feather with ice cream and crushed waffle cones, i woke up- feeling bullied and sullen.

need a second opinion

i woke up at 9 in the morning today and stepped out to the hallway to get to the bathroom to brush my teeth. before i got there, my mom abruptly stopped me and said the words i never wanted to hear. "there's something very wrong with your dad. we need to get him to the hospital. i think he's having a heart attack." i don't think i ever got dressed and assembled so fast. i methodically went to the bathroom where my dad was slumped on the floor, clutching his chest and looking more helpless than i ever thought he could. i hoisted all 233 pounds of him onto his feet and rushed after my mom to the car. we made it to st. francis hospital in what must be a record breaking 15 minutes flat. i stayed silent the entire time. i didn't know what to say and knew if i started to talk, all that would come out would be anxious ranting. i kept my eyes on him and kept repeating his medications and dosages in my head, over and over. we got to the ER and i took my dad in while my mom parked the car. we had to check in through a security post first. "what's the reason you're here?" i don't think i answered his question. i just shuffled my dad through the double doors and asked a nurse where he should go if we think he's had a heart attack. he was taken away from me pretty fast by two nurses. they saw that he was responsive and able to breathe on his own and was hooked up to an EKG immediately. after admitting him, he was moved to a bed in the ER. his blood was drawn and he was scheduled for a CAT scan of his head and abdomen. he handed me his change, claiming he counted it and he better get all of it back. he also gave me his chain with a cross and pendant on it. i put it on. i hated seeing him in that hospital gown on that bed, hooked up to machines. my sister came as fast as she could and my dad then had the most important women in his life surrounding him, worried but not showing it. tara and my mom pulled a lot of strings to get my dad seen fast. his episode passed, it was mild. he looked a bit more comfortable while we waited for the CAT scan. finally, they came by and wheeled him away. i asked my mom for an honest answer. "what do you think this means? what do you think this is?" she told me the truth. my dad had lived an unhealthy lifestyle for a long time. he just recently started to lose weight and keep it off. he's had episodes like this before, but nothing like what my mother saw that morning. sometimes, the damage that you do to your body is irreversible is what she said to me. about a half hour later, he was brought back to us. he did really look better and much more like himself at that point. he started to whine about being there so i knew he was feeling better as well. another 20 minutes passed and the doctor came by to tell us what the CAT scan had said. he started with the fact that my dad did indeed break his 7th rib from a previous and recent fall off his bike. he then went on to tell us that he saw liver cysts in his belly. there was no internal bleeding, which was a huge relief. he told us that there was a decent amount of plaque build up around his heart. the doctor said the blood test results showed high levels of troponin, affirming that my dad had a heart attack. he suspects that the stress of the pain from the broken rib triggered a high heart rate and made my dad's heart work much harder than it should be while he was resting. beta blockers would help prevent another episode, but he needs a full work up from his specialist. my sister, mom, and i were relieved and happy to hear he could come home with us. this relief turned to a sour feeling quickly. the doctor wasn't done telling us what was found through the CAT scan. his head was scanned as a precaution because of the fall a few days earlier. the doctor called it mild atrophy of the brain. it's a pre-indication of alzheimer's. we were silent. "what does that mean?" my dad was visibly shaken, maybe angry at the results. my mom's face crumbled a little bit and my sister's did as well. i just listened. he told us that it's not devastating, but we should look into preventative treatment in another 3 years or so. i was devastated though. i am devastated. my dad more so. the doctor said to take it easy and see the specialist as soon as possible. my sister drove me home while my mom and dad drove in another car. i knew what was happening in that car. my dad was asking a slue of questions. "am i gonna be demented, sha? i don't wanna live like that." i have to stop myself from thinking about the conversation in their car because it breaks my heart too much knowing how scared my dad was and how unsure my mom was answering his questions. we all met at home and laughed about how we were stuck with him still. i saw his eyes and they were red. my mom looked exhausted. i felt exhausted. my sister left to go back to seaford and the three of us- my mom, dad, and i sat in the den and took a nap. i woke up an hour later and quietly moved to my bedroom. i sat on my bed and went over the day. i laid down and i cried as silently as i could. i cried for about an hour for my dad, for my mom, for myself. he's terrified of losing his mind. "i know i'm not as sharp as i was at 33, but i don't think i'm losing my shit. am i?" this was the question i kept thinking about that made me cry so much. my dad is not an unsure man. he's stubborn and confident and knows everything there is to know, even if he doesn't actually know. to see him question himself was a shock. to know that the day before he was joking and laughing and cursing at my sister's house, making all of our friends crack up made me realize how quickly things can and do change. that alone is terrifying. it may be down the road and i may not have to worry about it now, but to know that alzheimer's could very well be in my dad's future shakes me. it rattles every nerve i have and breaks my heart. i know he feels the same exact way. i want to give him something, do something that will erase that prognosis. i want to make it better and i can't. i feel helpless and useless in this whole situation. i hate taking things as they come, and that's all we can do. if nothing else, i just want to take his mind off of it- but how can i do that when it's on my mind too? i'm happy he's home. i try to keep thinking of how happy i am that he is home and with us. if i can hold onto that thought, i may be able to focus on just making him feel better. i don't know what else there is to do.

from crib to coffin

my neighbor tried to kill his wife about a week ago. he was going to shoot her with his gun in the basement. fortunately, she was able to bring attention to the situation by running outside into the middle of the street. the cops were called and no one died. while one crisis was averted, another is just beginning. a marriage is falling apart, maybe an entire family. i would have never thought that my neighbor was capable of attempted murder. i would have never thought such awful things were going on inside the house next to mine. he was always smiling, mowing the lawn, being a typical suburban sixty-something year old. nothing struck me as odd or off kilter. i've lived next to them my whole life. it drives the point home that you never really know anyone. every single person you meet will have and keep a secret or flaw hidden from you. there will always be something that we all keep from each other. people keep appearances up, smile, nod, and close the door behind them and who knows what goes on. to a degree, we're all guilty of it. no one is ever completely honest with others or themselves. it can be a personal flaw, an addiction, a weird fetish, something in your past, or something in your present- which is worse because that's active lying to the people around you. what forces us to lie about ourselves? for some people it's the need to be liked and accepted. for others it's simply to get through the day without feeling ashamed, a survival technique. then there are the percentage that lie to keep the stasis they've created. they're comfortable with what they have in the now and aren't willing, ready, or able to admit to everyone else that this isn't who they are or what they want. there are people who will die with secrets that no one else knows. it seems like a pretty heavy weight to carry around all by yourself. i've tried to be as honest with myself as possible, but there are things that linger in the back of my mind that i choose to ignore and not confront, and i feel confident in saying that a lot of people function like that. it's a coping mechanism and it works, so why not keep doing it?