Not Really a Dire Emergency

I was in Brisbane and on the Gold Coast last weekend, seeing friends and family and looking damn sexy in my kilt at Danny and Alicia's wedding. Everything was going swimmingly well until Monday, when my sister called me in tears saying that my dad had been taking to hospital with a stroke. I'm going to spoil the story right away by saying that he's fine. It looks like one medication he was taking caused another to build up in his body (just like THC, whee) and that caused him to collapse and bump his noggin. Twice. His cat scan and blood tests are clear, which means he either didn't have a stroke after all, or had such a minor one that it can't be detected. I suppose this is like like an earthquake that no-one can actually feel, which is quite Zen, but I suppose as long as it doesn't actually cause any damage to my dad's house, it sounds just dandy.

I didn't know all this at the time my sister called though, which made the whole episode about as fun as falling into a steaming cauldron of broken glass. The feeling of helplessness, the tunnel vision, the hours of unconscious jaw clenching, the sick coils in my stomach - it was all such fun. The crowning twirl to the dance was that I couldn't rush down and see him in hospital, as I was booked in to sit with my aunt for her second round of chemotherapy that day. About the only thing going for me at that moment was that my sister was handling the hardcore "sitting around in a hospital going out of your mind while no-one tells you anything" duty, and my stalwart buddy George, who was only mildly hungover from the wedding, and able to drive me wherever I needed to go.

Several hours later, I was stuffed into a train with most of the population of South East Queensland, trying not to chuckle as two young Lebanese guys chatted up an eighteen year old fine arts student in tight jeans with some of the worst pickup lines known to man. Even more amusing was the fact that she was responding, but my mind wasn't really into the fundamentals of late teen pair bonding at that moment. I arrived at Nerang railway station, my awesome sister picked me up, and we went to the hospital together. Dad was a bit groggy, but he seemed to be okay. He was even cracking the occasional joke, which was a good sign, although his sense of humour was still pretty piss poor.

It's now a couple days later, and dad's well on the mend. He leaves the hospital today, and heads home to potter around his bromeliads and drip water his mango tree. Thanks for everyone who helped out or spoke kindly to me during the interesting times, I appreciate it. Now I think I'll go and lie down.