She Whirls, She Twirls, She Spins, She Collapses

This post is brought to you by severe PMS, early warning signs of a migraine and general angst.

I have spent the morning searching my house for the vacuum. Where would you go, if you were a vacuum? I still haven't found it. I haven't ruled out 'vacuum thieves'. I like to keep my vacuum handy. Were any sort of disaster to strike, I think I could live quite some time off the cheerios harbored in my vacuum cleaner bag.

Daughter came for coffee before work. We were discussing the differences in the busy-ness of our day today. I had just told her my plans, when the phone rang.

It was my dad. Wanting to know if I was planning to pick them up, or if he needed to come get me.

What? Why? HOW???

They had doctor's appointments today.

How did I not know this?

Considering it was time to go right then, I had no other option but to tell him I could not go.

I absolutely HATE to disappoint people. I disappoint A LOT of people, so one would think I'd be getting used to it by now. But, I'm not.

It's not that my dad can't drive. It's that he can't hear or remember what the doctor tells him. Especially when he is also filtering the wrong information my mom occasionally tells.

I should be there. How this date did not get on my calendar is beyond my comprehension.

Until I remember that this appointment would have been made just a few days before Christmas, and, oh, possibly I was a little busy then.

So, it isn't so much that I worry that my dad cannot get himself and mom to their appointments. It isn't that I worry that their doctor's wonderful nurses, Marilyn and Betty, won't let me know if there is anything about which I will need to know...

It's that they go to the doctor in East Grand Rapids, and just in case you don't keep on top of things like this...

President Bush is in East Grand Rapids today.

In January I sent Youngest Son to this office to pick up a prescription for my mom. This was the day President Ford's body arrived for the funeral.

Youngest Son saw parts of the city he never knew existed.

Oh, I hope my dad and mom make it there and back okay today.

And, oh, how I HATE to disappoint.

Does anyone else remember the PBS special with Leo Buscalia where he tells of how he wishes there were an enclosed park that mothers could go to and scream at the top of their lungs?

Did he not know that the need for that never goes away?

(pssst. does anyone know if there actually IS a park like that? must. find. park.)