My brother said it happened just like he thought it would. The news would come by an early morning phone call from me.
About 45 minutes earlier, my phone rang at 3:30 a.m. It stopped before I got to it. I didn’t recognize the number on the caller id.
“Someone drunk dialed,” I thought.
I was almost back to sleep when it rang again. This time the call was coming from my parent’s house. It was my mom.
“Annie, I don’t want you to panic, but the ambulance just took your dad to the hospital.”
I hung up and went for the closet.
“What do you wear at 4’o clock in the morning to the hospital?”
I was panicked, I was scared, and I didn’t know what to wear. I paced back and forth a few times in the closet before I pulled myself together enough to reach for an argyle sweater and pair of jeans.
I started making phone calls in the car on the way to my mom’s to pick her up; my sister in New Castle, first, then my brother. I decided to wait to call my sister in Boston. Not much she could do from there.
Mom was waiting at the door when I got to her house. On the way to hospital she told me that dad woke up with chest pains, numbness in his left arm, and shortness of breath, all the classic signs of a heart attack. He took an aspirin then he woke up my mom.
By the time we got to the cardiac unit, Dad was already wearing a light green hospital gown with tubes and wires as accessories. I’d seen him like this a couple years before in the emergency room, when a dog in the back of a truck reached out and took a chunk out of his arm as he passed it in a parking lot.
My older brother, on the other hand, had never seen my dad looking so vulnerable. I could see it on his face, my brother was scared. I’m sure all the times dad had rescued us ran through his mind. Now it was my dad’s turn to be rescued.
Before 10 a.m., my mom, brother, sister, brother-in-law and I surrounded my dad’s hospital bed. We thought that we were being strong. We thought that we were doing a good job of hiding our fear and concern. I knew it made him uncomfortable to have us all staring at him like that, but-true to form-my dad talked and joked with us to show us that he was going to be okay.
The worst of it seemed to be over by the time he got to the hospital. He felt so much better that he began to regret going. By mid-day it looked as if dad would be staying overnight, just as a precaution.
Mom and I headed home for a nap. I didn’t make it all the way up to my room. I just took off my shoes and lay down on the couch.
Less than an hour later, my tearful mom was on the phone again. The blood tests confirmed that he, indeed, had a heart attack and the doctor wanted to do an angioplasty as soon as possible.
This time I didn’t stop to consider my appearance.
My mom and I didn’t say much on the way back to the hospital. I knew I should talk to her. I knew I should say something. I knew I shouldn’t let her sit there and cry and stew over what could happen, but I didn’t know what to say. I begrudged being the youngest at that moment. My older sister in Boston would be much better suited for supporting my mom when she needed it the most.
I said the only thing I could think of. I told mom that we couldn’t let dad see us scared. He was going to be scared enough without having to worry about us. I said it more for me than for her.
We had just a few minutes to talk to him before they came to take him down for what would be an hour- long procedure.
I wonder if doctors ever get tired of people thanking them. I wonder if saving lives eventually becomes passé. When the doctor came in the waiting room to tell her how the procedure went, my mom thanked him as if he had just given her a hundred Christmas presents with a hundred shiny red bows. My dad - got a brand new stint in the front of his heart to keep his artery open.
Later that night, Mom, Dad, and I watched “Dancing with the Stars” together in his hospital room. That jilted bachelorette turned out to be really good. Dad had to lie really still for the next few hours, some of the longest of his life.
His life. Dad’s life.
My dad didn’t die on March 16th.
The time for fear is over. Now, it’s just a time for gratitude. So, to celebrate my dad’s life, we had a barbeque. We called it the “Barbeque-not-a-Funeral-Barbeque.”
Dad had chicken.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Anniethology on Idol: Idol, Whooz ur daddy? Season 8, Part 6
Friday, March 20, 2009
My wish list
I have a file folder in my favorites called, "Mama's Wish List." Here is a sample of the items found therein:
Chrome Stainless Steel Exhaust Tips enhance your vehicles appearance & dual exhaust system helps provide looks and increased performance. Chrome tip slips over your existing exhaust pipe and secures with a fastener, adding extra street smarts to your vehicle.
A t-shirt that says this!
These knobs from Anthropologie.
This candle from k. hall designs.
And these Jessica Simpson pumps.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Stephenie Meyer: Fan or Copycat
Watch the first 12 and half minutes of the pilot of "Roswell" and you tell me.
(Yes, "Alias" fans. That is Marshall.)
The more you watch, the more similarities between plot and characters you will find.
Apparently, I'm not the only one who has noticed. If you Google "Stephenie Meyer" and "Roswell" you'll find 23,4000 entries.
I'm mad that I didn't notice before. I lived in Covina, CA where a lot of the filming for "Roswell" took place. I was a huge fan of the show and was super disappointed when it ended. I can't believe I didn't connect the dots sooner.
The real question is:
Do these similaries make me a jilted fan or a more ardent supporter?
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Anniethology on Idol: Idol, Whooz ur daddy? Season 8, Part 5
So long, Jorge. Looks like the Puerto Rican vote wasn't enough to save you. I think you shouldn't have tried to hide your accent when you sang and a little eyebrow grooming could have gone a long way. America is ripe for another Latin Invasion and you could have started it. "Ancho meng."
And just so you know, I can dish it out as well as take it!
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Read this or don't. I don't care.
I had my birthday a couple months ago. The great thing about being closer to forty than thirty is that I care less about what people think about me. I'm not saying I don't care about people, but I have come to the point in my life where someone's good or not-so-good opinion of me does not cause me to lose sleep at night. I am happy with who I am and nobody can take that away from me. The only person's opinion that matters to me is Secret Agent Man's. When it comes to the opinion of others, my motto is, "Do they put a roof over your head? Do they feed your children? No? Then, who gives a rat what they think?!" S.A.M. puts the food in my belly and clothes on my back. I care about what he thinks. Him and no one else. Well, and my mother. I care what my mother thinks. Especially when I write my articles. I don't want to humiliate her. So, I am mindful to put the filter on so I don't embarass her. And my dad. I care what he thinks, too. He fed me and clothed me for a long time. And then there is Voices Carrie. I'd be upset if she was upset with me. And my newspaper readers. I care what they think. Someone sent me a clipping of one of my articles with red pencil circling the grammar mistakes! Who does that? Who has time to do that? Then there are the children. I want my own children to like me and the kids at church, too. I hope they enjoy being with me and enjoy the lessons I plan for them. And the kids at school. I hope they like the art projects. I'd be sad if they thought I was boring. But that's it. Those are the only people whose opinion matters. But then there was the lady that I accidently took the right-of-way away from and she mouthed the words, "Are you an idiot?!" That hurt. She had no idea she ruined my day. I mouthed back the words, "I'm sorry," but she didn't mouth back, "It's okay," she just drove on. If only she knew what I good person I was, she wouldn't have acted like that. So, there ya go. I don't care what people think of me, except for the few I mentioned and you. I just don't care.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Anniethology on Idol: Idol, Whooz ur daddy? Season 8, Part 4
Von Smith didn't make it to the final 12 or 13, be that as it may, he tried his best, so he earned two trips through the "Idol, Whooz ur daddy?!" macheen. Here are the results:
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
"What the Wednesday?!" Anniethology question of the week.
Apparently, Octomom hasn't made payments on her home since May. She is on the verge of being homeless along with her 14 kids.
Question: Why hasn't Obama saved her house?
Question: Why hasn't Obama saved her house?
Monday, March 2, 2009
The Bachelor Conspiracy Theory
I'm not buying it. I"m just not buying it. This show is the most contrived piece of trash that I have ever dedicated weeks of my life to.
I hate that hours before these bachelors are supposed to choose the love of their life, they are confused and don't know which one to pick. They love them both. That is such crap. (I'm sorry, Mom, but it is.) If the man I was engaged to didn't know he wanted me from the word "go" I'd be outta there.
After Secret Agent Man met me, he never thought of another woman ever again. He had no doubts. I was it for him.
What I think happened with this last Bachelor, Jason, is he really wasn't completely sold on either one of them. So, instead of going the route of a previous bachelor and dumping them both, Jason and the producers cooked up a ratings-getting plan.
Jason would send one on home, propose to the other, and then after they get back to reality, tell her that he really loved the other one more, and then in a big dramatic ending, ask for the jilted one back. It was a risk, for sure. But, if you aren't that invested in either one of the women...what is the harm? The women know what they are getting into, right? They know they are making a TV show.
The harm is that Jason looks like a wish-washy horses backside. The harm is one girl, Melissa, actually thought she was getting married. The harm is that Molly sat on her duff for weeks hoping and praying he would change his mind and she looks desperate to agree to take him back so readily.
I think Jason knew what he was going to do this all along. Remember his parting words to Molly before he shut the limo door, it was something like, "You have to remember that everything between us was real." This was a ratings setup.
I am completely convinced that he makes more money because of the more dramatic ending. I'm sure these bachelors get a % of the earnings and mark my words this Bachelor will receive the highest ratings of all.
I hope that $$ is worth your integrity, Jason.
But who's the real sucker here?
I don't want to answer that.
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