Where to Even Start...

Do I tell you about making the pharmacy people cry?

Or the cringey yelling at the person who was rude to me about the person who was rude to me?

Or about the knife in the glove box

Or the missing baby

Or the weird I.D. card from the cemetery 

Or Kevin and I yelling "Not It" at the hospice nurse

Or sharing scandalous family stories to strangers 

Or the beautiful valentines the young cousin helped make

Or the archaeological dig that was the parents house (and van)? 

I mean...it's been A LOT.  This past week has been nonstop.  It has been the Most Dramatic Episode of Raising Parents, Ever.

To sum up, in seven days the parents were both in the hospital - not together because that would be too easy - and now one is in hospice and one is in a care facility.  

I told you, A LOT.

What had happened was Kevin's mom went into the hospital with stomach pain and came out with pneumonia.  She was home four days...maybe, I think...and we had to call the ambulance twice.  Twice they did not take her because it was deemed too risky and traumatic to take her to the hospital. 

The paramedic on the first occurrence was the one who called it: "It's time to call hospice, she's not leaving this house again."

A LOT.

In the meanwhile, my father-in-law made three trips to the E.R. in four days and ended up in a care facility for two weeks.  We are bringing him home to the siblings house where we have the m-i-l set up for hospice. 

It's A LOT.

So, that gives everyone a This is What's Happening and a little something something to look forward to.

The Knife in the Van Story:

Clearly, no one is driving the van right now and won't be for a while, if ever again.  As it turns out, one of the young cousins car is broken down so they are borrowing it.  I didn't know the borrowing part until about two hours prior to them picking it up.  And I panicked.

The van is an extension of the house: cluttered, dirty, just...eww.  I grabbed my detail box and started to work.  Mydawg.  I started laughing about it, that kind of laugh where you're dangerously close to cracking.  Kevin came to help and did for a little bit before he just threw his hands and said "I just can't with that." 

SO MANY STRAWS.  I mean, no exaggeration twenty straws is an undersestimate. It was like a magician's hat: straws kept coming out of that damn van.  And napkins. So many napkins. Oh, and sunglasses.  She is a hoarder of dollar store sunglasses. Ten? I think I found ten sunglasses.

Two hats, one pair of socks, three sets of gloves, travel pack kleenex.  Receipts of all kinds, everywhere. Two stuffed AFLAC ducks. A plastic crate of CD's. Lots of fries and snacky things on the floor. (Lucy had the best day ever)

But this sent me over the edge.  I was cleaning out the glovebox.  Once I got out all the straws, napkins and sunglasses, I found a glasses case.  There was plastic cutlery - a mixture of picnic style and regular plastic.  And a knife.  A paring knife kind of knife.  A legit knife.

I mean...what?  I guess she/they were being safe by having it in a glasses case? And in the glovebox?

Kevin thought maybe it was from when they were fishing then he realized his dad always has a pocket knife. (well, actually he was carrying two when I brought his clothes home from the hospital) 

The only thing I can think of is she kept it there to cut her food when they got fast food.  Because that is good decision making on all levels. Obviously.

And I can think of the unsanitariness of that. I just can't.

It's been A LOT.