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Have I said here, before, that there are few things worse than the phone ringing after 11 at night? I think I have, haven't I? Well, just in case...

THERE ARE FEW THINGS WORSE THAN THE PHONE RINGING AFTER 11 PM!

"Gbob?"

"Beast? Is that you? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG?"

"Gye yam gick, gand breed."

Ok, a little back history. Beast has gone off to the University of Arkansas. Why UARK? Oh, mostly because she couldn't figure out a way to get any further away from me. She left with every intention of never looking back and never missing or needing me again. I told her that would likely change the first time she got sick, and I knew it was just a matter of time because going to live in a dorm your freshman year is like going to kindergarten all over again. You are exposed to germs you never knew existed and your body, especially one with rotting tonsils that no doctor will agree to remove. So, she's been sick. She's had strep. She's been to the health clinic twice and the emergency room once. She's had two complete rounds of antibiotics, a shot of same in her ass, and narcotics for the pain in her throat. And she's only been there 2 months.

Now, for those of you who don't speak motherese, that little dialog up there was her telling me, her mom (Gbob), that she was sick (gick) again, and couldn't breathe (breed). We return now, to the call, in progress:

"Gye don know gat do do."

You see, a mother is always needed. I told her that what she needed to do (do do), was get to the emergency room. She garbled that she found a ride and was on her way. In the meantime, MOTH and I faxed her insurance info to the hospital, and laid in bed waiting for the next call which came about a half hour later.

"Gbob, gyem here."

After knowing that she was there (gyem here) safely, we drifted off to fretful sleep, only to be woken about every half hour to the guttural mumbling updates on how nothing was being done. Apparently just as she got there, some major trauma occurred and a helicopter had flown in a few victims, so her rapidly closing throat had been triaged and deemed not nearly as important as other things. Which was understandable.

That is, until 3 hours passed, and still she hadn't been treated. And now, in addition to the unintelligible throat speak, there were tiny sobs which would have been bigger and louder if only it didn't hurt so much to cry. I instructed her to use those tears to her advantage and to go to the front desk and weep for treatment, and to ask for a place to lie down.

"Gbob? Gye wanna glo black do duh dohm. Day dot do deds."

No beds? What the fuck? Is this not a hospital? Whattya mean no beds? Ok, time to punt. She was disparate to lie down, so I asked her if she could find a corner somewhere. Apparently this was not such a good idea. Beast isn't exactly a germ phobic neat-freak, but garbled to me that in no way was she going to put her body on that floor. I didn't think that going back to the dorm was such a good idea, I mean, she wasn't breathing right. And surely they would have to see her soon.

Her poor pitiful voice was a tad clearer when she whispered to me, "Mom. There is a man here who is bleeding through his EYES and they haven't even seen HIM yet. What are the odds of getting to me anytime soon?"

Fair enough. repulsive, but fair. So, sometime around 2 AM she got back to her room and probably passed out while I tossed and turned for another 90 minutes or so.

Not much better today, she's had a few blood cultures taken, and a few more strep cultures. Mono was ruled out. So they gave her a bottle of hydrocodone for pain (geeze!) and steroids for the swelling in her throat. While still not very intelligible, she was feeling well enough to have slept most of the afternoon and evening and is now able to swallow liquids from a straw. And I think she may possibly abandoned the momentary thoughts she had of coming back home.

That probably is the best sign that she's getting well.

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