We’ve been up for hours. It was necessary to get Ryan ready for his baclofen pump removal surgery this morning. Sure, we did as much as we could yesterday night, but many things must happen at the very last second. For example, there’s no way to give him his scheduled medications before they’re due.
Right now it’s 4:30 am and we’re taking the all to familiar ambulance ride to the hospital. It’ll be a bumpy ride, I’m told, because they can’t get the chassis to elevate. So far, it’s like going through a flight with endless turbulence. My apologies in advance for typos.
I hate this. I hate almost everything that’s about to happen today. I hate this ride. I hate the inevitable gawkers at the hospital. I hate the piles of paperwork we’ll sign. I hate the smell and sounds of the hospital. He’ll, I even hate the cafeteria food and coffee that is burnt in the pot.
Yes, I hate all this, but it’s what’s best for my son. To think, in several hours that son-of-a-bitch baclofen pump will be out!
Oh, I’m going to ask if I can keep it. After all, we did pay for it.
Then I’m taking it to someone’s private property (because a firing range won’t allow it) and unloading a full clip of 9mm rounds into it. Which reminds me, is there anyone in Northern Virginia that can accommodate me in this plan? I’m telling you, this will be therapy for me. I might take some other targets, say images of despicable people, and shot until my wrists ache.
Then I just might start kicking the shreds of paper that remain.
Hell yeah, therapy!
I’ll keep you updated as the day unfolds. Please check back. Your comments mean so much, especially on days like this.