I climbed out of bed and showered, then Kim drove me bright and early to Community Hospital North, where I was scheduled to have a port put in at 7:30 am.  

I did not wash my hair (as if you care...but this minor detail becomes important later on...) as I had a hair appointment scheduled for noon that day.  And we all know that it's useless to waste the time and effort washing and fixing one's hair (a task I despise anyway) when it will be re-washed and re-styled in just a few hours. My plan was to get the port put in, have Kim take me home, then drive as scheduled for my noon hair appointment.

Wrong.

First of all, I had no clue that the port installation was going to be such a big ordeal.  I thought they'd numb the spot, stick it in, and I'd be good to go.

Wrong. 

I was taken up to SURGERY, put completely under by an anesthesiologist, and had some major cutting into my chest and I'm sure what must've been a large crochet hook poked down the vein in my neck.  When I woke up, I was totally groggy and felt like a freight train had run over me.  I could barely walk, let alone drive and I wasn't even ALLOWED to drive for 24 hours anyway because of the anesthesia.  It would've been nice if someone had clued me in....

Kim had made arrangements for Emily to drive me to my hair appointment. Because we all know how critical it is NOT to miss those appointments...totally throws my life off-kilter.  At that point, I wasn't even sure I'd be able to go, but at least the plan was in place.

Wrong.

As soon as they wheeled my groggy self to the curb and helped me into our car, as we were pulling away from the hospital Kim said, "Here's what's going on."

Uh-oh.

He explained the family had been called to Dad's bedside at Elmcroft, that he seemed to be in his final hours here on Earth.  Before he even asked me what I wanted to do, he already knew the answer.  We headed straight from the hospital to Elmcroft.

Meanwhile, Emily had picked up Mama and was headed that way too.  

All the way, I just prayed that we'd all get there in time.  I called my dear friend Peggy to cancel my hair appointment for me.  My head was splitting, I was partially in "la-la land," but I needed to be there for Mama and Dad.

As we were driving, I reached up under my hair to scratch my neck and my hand met a gooey, yucky, sticky mess in my hair.  "Ugh!"  I told Kim.  "I think I have gum or something in my hair!"

I was horrified when I pulled out my hand and looked at it.  Red.  That gooey, yucky, sticky mess was my own blood!

That, my friends, was when I totally lost it!  I sobbed and squealed and sobbed some more, as Kim is trying his best to maneuver down the interstate and help me find something, anything to clean up my hands and hair.  Apparently during surgery the blood had run down my neck and pooled under there and no one bothered to clean it up!!!  I am still furious just thinking about it!

After giving my hands a spit-bath in the car, as soon as I arrived at Elmcroft and talked to Dad a minute, Emily went to work on cleaning up my hair as I sobbed. Not a pretty cry.  At. All.

She took this photo after most of it was wiped out, and they all tried to joke that I was being fashionable with red highlights in my hair.  Not funny.  At. All.

When Barb arrived, she and Emily eventually took shampoo and washcloths to it and did the best they could to wash my hair.  As I cried my very ugly cry.

And so we sat the rest of the day, at Dad's bedside watching him struggle for every breath. Eventually, Kim had to take me home because I was miserable myself, light-headed and nauseous, and they certainly didn't need two patients to care for.

Dad eventually passed away early the next morning, and there's no way I could have ever made it that long, so I guess it's good that I went on home and went straight to bed.

Not exactly the day I had envisioned.

A very, very...

....traumatic Thursday.