I should have known it was going to happen. If I was thinking straight I would have seen it coming. Frankly, I blame the lack of attention on my cold feet and nicotine withdrawal. It's sort of like a lunar eclipse, but one that happens every six weeks. What is it you ask? I made a hair appointment.
So, naturally my loving husband (let's just call him "J" for reasons of anonymity) is working for the third straight Saturday. "J" knew this three Saturdays ago, but decided for safety reasons not to tell me until Thursday. Maybe I should call him "Wussy" for reasons of anonymity.
Either way I needed a plan. Initially I thought of my mother, but she was working too. The logical thing would have been to cancel my appointment, but I already rescheduled and with my high maintenance hair I was starting to sport the good ol' Tennessee Waterfall.
So, my hoop jumping began. It was this simple:
1. Get up extra early - go to my 8:00 a.m. "other" appointment (more on this in later blogs)
2. Come home, let Wussy go to work and wait for my mother-in-law
3. Go to next appointment and come back to relieve mother-in-law
First roadblock: my mother-in-law bails. Solution: sub in best friend and neighbour Kelly.
Second roadblock: gather intel which points to the first appointment going too late. Solution: take children to loving home of Godparents with the risk that they will see the good life and never return.
Decisions, decisions. Hair cut or risk losing children forever? Sorry kids, there's no excuse for a mullet.
So rewind to last night. Wussy and I take the kids to the hockey game and arrive home at about 9:30 p.m.
My mother calls as we walk in the door and she needs to go to the hospital. I was more than happy to do so and I was extremely glad she called. So, if anyone is reading this blog by the name of Marion Winifred Bartlett (yes, I said Winifred) please do not think I did not want to take you to the hospital. I was happy you called.
ANYWAY we head to the Dartmouth General. Due to our VIP status at hospitals we are taken in to a bed practically right away. They shout our names the way they used to for Norm on Cheers when the emergency doors open.
12 hours to my haircut, and it looks like it's going to happen.
1:30 a.m. and we are still waiting for the doc. He obviously didn't know who we were. My mother was starting to get frustrated and she kept threatening to pull out the chords because "there was nothing wrong with her". Finally I turned over in the bed, told her to sit in her chair and be quiet.
Doctor Intern comes in. Asks the following questions:
How old are you? 57
Have you had any surgeries? Just a hysterectomy back in 1988
When was your last period? I had a hysterectomy back in 1988
Are you pregnant? I had a HYSTERECTOMY back in 1988
Okay then.
At 4:00 a.m. they take her for tests and I head home for a couple hours of shut eye. Looks like my 8 a.m. is off, but I have 7 hours until my haircut and I think it's going to work.
I arrive back at the hospital at 9 a.m. sharp. Mom said she's good to go so we rip off all of her stickers and leave. We're back at Mom's by 10 a.m. and my haircut is ON LIKE DONKEY KONG.
The phone rings...
Turns out I literally "busted" mom out of there because she left before her cat scan. Apparently the nurse told my Mom she could leave by accident. So, we head back.
She has the scan and we are valet'd back to emerg. No fucking rooms left. They kick the people out of the family waiting room (I must have, at one point, asked someone in that group for a recipe because they looked at me as if I called their mother a whore) and we wait for the doctor.
We get out of there at exactly 11:51 a.m. - 6 minutes after my hair appointment was scheduled to begin.
Moral of the story: my Mom is healthy, life is still good and I'm bringing the mullet back.
XO
A
PS - Staff at Dartmouth General is actually fantastic. My lovely sister is also a nurse and I wouldn't be able to do it ever. Here's some friendly advice for any future doctors out there....I may not be a med student, but please refrain from asking my 57 year old post menopausal mother, who doesn't have ovaries if she is pregnant. Other than that, you guys rock.
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