Not a good week

Okay, this entry is going to depart from my normal format. All the previous postings, and hopefully all the postings that come after this one, have been me talking to you, my readers. You, the person who reads what I write and hopefully who also has an interest in the movies and other weird bits that I discuss here. You're the whole reason this blog exists.

But this one is different. This is me talking to the whole world, especially to the people who don't read my stories. This is me venting. I want this statement engraved in both cyberstone and collective consciousness, where it will remain for all ages.

With the exception of a few good moments, this last week has been the worst of my life. The exceptions shine pretty brightly, but I'm so glad this week is over.

My mom died on the 3^rd. She had been on a ventilator for a while, and my sister had been handling her bills and such. My sister had a long talk with my mom's doctor, and then she called me. A while back my mom gave my sister both a power of attorney and a document which spelled out her wish to not be left hooked up to artificial life support if there was little to no chance of a recovery. My sister decided to have the machine turned off, and I backed that decision. My mom died a half-hour before I left the house to drive out to see her.

Because of the holiday, a plane ticket would have been almost impossible to get and ridiculously expensive. The eight-hundred mile trip took me almost two days, partly because I wasn't in the best frame of mind.

When I arrived, I hugged my sister, met and shook hands with her husband, and said hello to my two nephews. I hadn't seen the oldest since he was a baby, and had never laid eyes on the younger. I signed paperwork and tried to comfort my sister. We both went to my mom's house and I picked through artifacts that I hadn't seen in decades.

On the trip back, I was in the middle of Nowhere, West Texas when I got a flat. Luckily I had a signal for my cell phone, and my fantastic wife was able to not only add me to her AAA account, but to get them to call me. I'll write about the experience later, but I got to sit out in the desert for an hour and a half while it got dark.

When the tow truck driver arrived with a flat-bed (the flat was on a rear tire) his winch malfunctioned as he was pulling my car up on it, so I had to drive it up on the bed. We talked on the way to the small town up ahead, and it took us not quite an hour to get there. I had called a couple of motels while I waited, and found one right across the street from the tow business. Somehow in the time between my call and my arrival, they had filled all their vacancies.

Now I had walked across the street to get to the motel, and the the tow driver had taken off in the meantime. This was late Friday night in a small town, and the lights were all off and the streets were deserted. I headed up the road to where I thought the tow driver had shown me another motel, but after a few blocks I arrived in the middle of town and realized either I was going in the wrong direction or it was too far away for me to even see it. Off to one side, I noticed a sign for a Holiday Inn. Still carrying my bags, I walked a few more blocks, and staggered in to ask the nice lady at the desk if she had any vacancies. She shook her head sadly at this sweaty stranger who looked like a drifter and said that they were full, but she did call the Best Western for me, which was just a few more blocks away, up the highway.

I stopped off at the gas station next door to grab a beer, only to find that they didn't carry singles of any of the kinds that I like, and they couldn't let me break a six-pack. I had to buy a forty-ounce bottle of a watered-down brand while everyone stared at the weirdo in line carrying a backpack and a duffel bag. It was probably a smart idea of mine to zip up the bag so no one could see the case for my Beretta. (It's illegal down here to carry a weapon into any place that sells alcohol)

Then I walked those three more blocks up the frontage road of the highway, in the dark and hoping I wouldn't get hit when I had to walk on the asphalt because there wasn't a sidewalk. When I got to the motel I was tired, reeking of sweat, and thirsty as hell. I put in for a seven AM wake up call, wondering how soon I would be able to fall asleep.

After less than five hours of sleep, I got up and started making phone calls to make sure that the tow company would get my car to the tire place and that the tire place would sent someone to pick me up when they were ready for me to drive my car off the flatbed. Then I watched brainless TV and tried to doze. About ten AM, I was finally back on the road.

Eight hours later, I was finally back home where I had started. Now I can try to settle into the thought that my mother has died. We had a strained relationship, but her loss still leaves an empty hole.

By the way, about the futile hunt for quality beer? Blame my wife. She's the one who has introduced me to the good stuff and tried to wean me off of what she calls 'canoe beer.' Don't tell her that I still like that stuff too, okay?