If you are just joining this blog, you might want to start at the preface and work your way up or you'll be missing major details :-)
But before I continue the story, I'll give you some cliff's notes since its been like an eternity since I wrote last:
-Dad was put in jail for scamming a contracting job.
-Crack whore calls mom when Dad is in jail, who is in a hotel nearby waiting for my dearest Daddy.
-Dad's friend Julian bails him out of jail.
-Dad stocks the pantry with Y2K food and leaves on the road with the crack whore.
-Dad is missing for days and we try to file a missing person's report.
-Find out Dad's credit card is being used to rent a Uhaul truck in PA.
-Discover Dad has been caught with 2 MUCH younger female prostitutes in February.
- I have a 11 year old brother and 13 year old sister that now know Dad is missing but we are trying to find him.
So, its taken me about 2 months to write this chapter. Why? Well, this is the part where shit gets serious. What you thought it was serious already? Yep me too...and then something else hits us smack in the face.
This is the part of the story where the reality of my little lifetime movie logs deeply into consciousness. I think when people go through something big or shocking its normal to take a lot of time to set in. Hell, I think some people just store it away and let it fester for years until they screw up some meaningful relationship or situation. Okay, perhaps I'm being a little dark. I just don't like this part. I wish I could just stuff it in a box and pretend it doesn't exist. But it does, and the purpose of writing about all of this is to allow space to heal and rebuild, not only for myself in this very moment, but for my brother and sister in the future. One day when they are old enough to handle it, I will show them our story, and perhaps they will be able to close up any leftover wounds or rectify any misgivings about decisions made by the responsible parties in their lives. So on with the drama...
Dad is still missing and the kids know, but everyone is trying to maintain composure and travel through the hours as if things are the same. I'm not sure why we do that as humans- act as if everything is okay when its not. I guess if we don't than the sky will actually fall. Or does it?
Mom and I went to the grocery store to get a crazy amount of food, since the house was bone dry of food (aside from the Y2K stash). Spam just wont fly for me though. As my mom and I load up the conveyor belt we get a text from my sister.
"Dad is on the phone. He's in the hospital"
I show the text to Mom, and all we do is look at one another in disbelief and shock. You know in the movies when everything goes slow and gets all fuzzy on the edges and people talk in a funny slow voice...insert that image and audio here. There was no panic, no worry, just one big pause.
I text back, "Keep him on the line we are on our way home"
Then Mom tries to call the house phone to see if she can get Lucy to stay on both lines.
"Hi Lucy. What's he saying? Where is he?" Mom asks as I wait anxiously for the recap of what's being said on the other line.
"Okay Lucy don't panic. You believe him? Yeah let him talk to your brother but keep him on the phone we will be home really soon. Where did he say he was? Okay Luc I understand you believe him. He said he's been sick? With what? Okay. Okay. We'll be home in 2 minutes keep him on the line," Mom says as we quickly begin bagging and loading our groceries into the cart.
"What did she say?" I asked busting at the seams with a large dose of adrenaline now slamming through my system.
"She said he sounds sick and groggy. He says he's in the hospital and Lucy said she could hear a lady talking in the background. She says he's crying," Mom tells me.
"Jeez. What the hell happened to him?" I question.
I have no recollection whatsoever of paying for the groceries, loading them into the car, and driving to my parent's home. For all I know we could have jacked the groceries and ran 10 red lights before we got there. When we drove into the garage, we left the groceries in the car and ran in to the house. I think I half expected my Dad to hang up before we got a chance to speak to him, but sure enough he was on the phone. I got on the line with my Dad.
"Dad? Where are you," I ask
"I'm in the hospital baby," he says in a heavily groggy voice.
"What? What happened Dad?"
"I had a stroke baby," he answers with the "groggy" sound loosing a bit of its edge. Hmm.
"Seriously?" I question.
Okay folks, here's where it gets good...wait for it....
"I've been in a coma for 6 days," he says with all of the groggy having worn off.
AND THESE ARE THE DAYS OF OUR LIVES (cue music and spinning hour glass)
"Wait what? You were in a coma? What happened Dad? Tell me everything from the beginning," I tell him firmly.
"I don't know baby, I'm just so tired," he whispers as if slipping out of consciousness.
"DAD! WHAT HAPPENED? WHAT CITY ARE YOU IN?" I yell to keep him "awake".
"I don't know baby. I....coma....tired...grawblasaw," he garbles out, again sounding heavily sedated.
"DAD WHAT CITY ARE YOU IN? WHAT HOSPITAL ARE YOU IN?" I yell.
"I don't know," he whispers.
"FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DAD GET A NURSE."
For about a minute, all he did was breathe heavily and make sounds as I yelled for him to get a nurse.
"DAD PRESS THE NURSE BUTTON BY YOUR HAND. PRESS THE NURSE BUTTON."
"Allentown," he replies with a little more clarity.
"Dad we checked every hospital in Pittsburgh and Illinois. I found nothing. What name are you under? What room are you in? Let me talk to a nurse," I ask with my suspicion mounting.
Then the groggy noise making and breathing starts again. Oh for heaven's sake we have to do the groggy breathing thing again. I think I'm suspecting a bit of a charade here.
"DAD HIT THE NURSE BUTTON. HIT THE NURSE BUTTON DAD. I NEED TO TALK TO A NURSE NOW!!" I yell at him.
"I ALMOST DIED SAMANTHA. QUIT ASKING ME ALL THESE QUESTIONS. I WAS IN A COMA FOR 10 DAYS AND NOBODY EVEN CARES. I ALMOST FUCKING DIED."
Uhh. Did he just say 10 days, because I could have sworn he said 6 before. And whoa, where did the anger come from?
"Dad what's really going on? Your story is changing. Let me talk to a nurse to sort all of this out. I'm coming to get you and I need to know where you are."
More groggy breathing and nonsense.
"Dad hold it together. Get a nurse. What hospital are you in? Hit the nurse button dad. Hit it now please." I beg him.
"Horsham Clinic," Dad whispers almost inaudibly.
"DAD HIT THE NURSE BUTTON," I yell again.
"I HAD A STROKE OKAY. I'M IN THE HOSPITAL OKAY," he yells at me.
Then there was some background noise. Oh good a nurse or someone is coming into the room. Finally. Just then the line goes dead.
What the F? Seriously? Could this get any more dramatic or stupid? Wait, don't answer that.
I give Mom the lowdown on the other half of the conversation, and because she's a genius, she pops open the computer to google Horsham Clinic.
Wanna see for yourself:
Horsham Clinic
Pretty much looks like a rehab or a nut house right? Doesn't seem like the place is capable of handling patients that had a stroke and were in a coma for 6... I mean 10 days right?
So what do I do? I call.
"Horsham Clinic. How may I direct your call?" a woman answers.
"I would like to speak to Tim Fakelastname please," I request.
"Let me see here.... well.... I don't have anyone here by that name miss."
How surprising.
"By any chance did he get discharged? Or let go or whatever happens in a clinic like this?" I ask stumbling over my naiveté.
"All I can tell you is if he is a patient currently, and he is not," she informs me.
"Are you sure?" I ask.
"Yes miss I'm sure," she spits out growing tired of this conversation.
"I see on your website you treat behavioral health care issues. Do you have the capability of treating someone with a stroke?" I question.
"Uh. No. We are a behavioral health facility."
"Okay thanks." I hang up.
Next step, redial button. Mom and I put the phone on speaker and wait patiently for the phone to begin ringing.
It rings and rings for quite some time, then does that weird half ring to indicate its going to voicemail.
"LEAVE A MESSAGE," a woman's husky impatient voice says. I imagine a chick biker on the end of that gruff voice, as Mom and I stare at one another again.
I know what she's thinking- its the same thing I'm thinking. More questions keep piling up instead of answers. What on earth do we do with this information, or lack there of? What's next? I don't think my mom and I knew, so we brought the groceries in and kept on moving, kept going as if nothing was happening. We were always pretty quiet. I think both of us were milling over all the little bits of information hoping that one little detail would pop out at us and smack up in the face. We were waiting for the "AHA" moment.
What do I know? I know my dad is up to something bad. Something he has to hide with every last ounce of energy. What on God's green earth could that be (I mean besides the barely legal ho bags)? There's more to this story, and boy did I want to uncover all the secrets, but the truth was that Christmas was only a few days away and the tree was still bare. Little did we know a little Christmas spirit would shine on us...
