So you know how bad stuff tends to cluster and good stuff spreads itself out all thin-like?
Well, FIL had a heart attack Wednesday night.
They were at a campground in the mountains past Mammoth Mountain, CA when it happened.
He had to be life-flighted into Reno, 4 hours away from their home in the deep dark middle of nowhere.
He needs bypass.
They can’t do open heart surgery at the hospital in the deep dark middle of nowhere because they don’t have a heart-lung machine.
And I’m sure health insurance covers emergency flights to Reno in the dead of night, right?
My MIL has only the clothes on her back. Campground and motorhome abandoned in haste.
She has a bone spur on her heel and can’t walk well.
That hospital is nothing but long ass hallways made fer walkin’.
Oh, and meanwhile, back in the deep dark middle of nowhere, their dumb old dog, Beau of the Big Anus, is dying and needs to be put down.
FIL is insisting that no one touch the dog or his big anus until he can say goodbye, which is frankly pissing us all off, because the poor dog is in a very bad way.
MB caught a last-minute flight to Reno. Hey, did you know those things aren’t cheap?
Among other things, someone needs to take my MIL, poor woman, to Target in Reno just to get some damn underwear.
A neighbor has already dug a hole for Beau in my in-law’s backyard.
(Yep, all their dead critters are buried there. It’s gross, it skeeves me out, it’s The Killing Fields and Pet Sematary all in one, there are nothing but mountains all around them in which to bury their pets, but nooooo, they’re all taking dirt naps in the backyard and, oh, would you like a Beau-Tomato from their garden?)
I just hope any future buyers of that house don’t want to put in a pool. They’ll think my in-laws were serial killers.
I am getting blow-by-blow email descriptions from the neighbors watching old blind Beau whine and moan and bonk into things. They are so frustrated by FIL’s edict that Beau must “stay alive, no matter what occurs,” it’s hysterical.
I recommended they just leave old blind Beau out in the backyard killing fields. He’ll eventually fall into his pre-arranged hole, et voila! Anxiety gives you a sick sense of humor.
But see what happens when you go camping, pippa?
FIL is having open heart surgery as I write this.
Stupid Beau and his stupid big anus.