Sick Days

3/3/09

Major dilemma. I am in the hospital with an infection, been here since last night, no idea when I’ll get out of here. It’s definitely better than it was – I was so sick yesterday that I couldn’t have written anything if I tried. The shelter kids had to pitch in and cook their own dinner because I was way too sick to do it (some pretty funny questions: “Miss Kate, what’s this?” A trans girl is holding up a can full of a whitish powder labeled “pepper”. Q: “But how can it be pepper if it’s not black?” A: “It’s fancy-ass pepper. It tastes about the same.” ) But it’s still pretty bad, so I know I won’t get out tomorrow.

To tell Dad or not to tell Dad? My first and strongest instinct is not to tell him – I don’t want him to be worried or scared. But then how to arrange Dad coverage so that he is distracted by other people visiting, buying me extra days? Normally, Kate S. and Brianna would have gone tomorrow while I went to the studio, but they’re both supposed to be at a meeting. I was going to skip sculpting and go to Dad, but now I can’t go to either. Jenna, bless her heart , (what a Kansas saying!!!) offered to go, which might be a little weird since they’ve never met. Dad is far enough removed from social norms that he probably wouldn’t question it (he might even assume she was someone he’s supposed to know!!!), and if anyone can walk into a baffled stranger’s house and make it work, it would be Jenna, with all her experience of doing housing work with mentally ill adults, but I don’t know. Maybe Kate S. and Brianna can do Thursday and please, please let me out by Friday . . .

Why couldn’t this have happened next week, with Dad safely, obliviously on his cruise. Too easy I guess. Dad’s “they” don’t let me get away with easy.

And speaking of easy, how easy would it be for them to have wi-fi for hospital patients? I won’t be able to post this until I get out, though writing it makes me feel better. That’s the point, I guess.