Now I suppose this might seem a little uncaring or like I shouldn’t be thinking about my future happiness when my mother is nearing the end of her life but would it be so wrong to have something good come out of something not so good?
When my mother was admitted to the hospital this past week, my sister and I spent 3 hours or so standing in the hallway of Surrey Memorial Emergency.
When she was brought in there were the requisite 2 paramedics who picked her up. And, while they were helping her to the stretcher, I said, "Hey mom, it’s not often you have two good lookin’ guys helping you into bed lately eh?" (like THAT’S a joke they’ve NEVER heard!)
One of them, talking to my mother said in response, “those crazy kids eh?” He had such a nice energy about him. Like the kind of face you’d definitely want to look into if you’d just crashed your car head on into something.
Anyway, that was about the extent of the conversation.
Fast forward three hours.
As my mom was being wheeled up to the dialysis unit this same paramedic who I hadn’t seen in a couple of hours, comes running down the hall towards me and says, Hey, are you going to the concert on Sunday the 18th?
“Concert?” I say totally confused.
“Yes, I live in the complex next to where your parents live and there’s a concert on the 18th he says. It’s country. It’s Sunday morning.”
Still confused, I look at him and say, "Aren’t you kind of young to live there?” unaware that the same complex has independent condos that people can just buy and live in.
My brain is kinda getting that, duh, he must LIKE me and I can vaguely hear my friggin voice saying you little weirdo NOW is not the time to get specific OVER DETAILS.
But, maybe I could be forgiven given the events of the day and the context. So, do I say what I should have said which should have been Hey, if you’re going, I’ll be there! And, I don’t even like country music. But, maybe he doesn’t either. There’s always hope!
Of COURSE NOT. Of course I don’t say that.
I hear myself saying, well, I live in the West End. That’s it. That’s what I say. Like that isn’t even an ANSWER to the question!
And that’s that. And I have to catch up with my sister and my mother being wheeled away.
But, of course, later, I’m kicking myself knowing I must follow up on every lead. Like job-hunting. And, just as in jobhunting, it’s not every day I’m actually INTERESTED in the position! So, dammit, I’m now on a mission. I’m going to that concert. Even if I don’t really know where the hell it is. Which complex?
The next day I tell my dad this little story and he shows me the “entertainment” schedule for the “complex” and I don’t see any country concert. I only see a classical music concert. It is on the 18th however.
So yesterday when I took my dad to the hospital and we parked the car in the parkade overlooking Emergency, he looked out at an ambulance parked there and said to me,
"We could always stand here a while Gayle and see if you can see him."
Now that brought a smile to my face. The picture of me and my 89 year old dad hanging out in the Surrey Memorial Hospital parking lot so I could pick up an ambulance driver who tried to pick me up.
How crazy sweet and creepy is that?