Hospitals

My brother was in the hospital yesterday.

My mom called me on the phone and left a message. My room has the most horrible reception ever, so all i heard was "...In....hospital....Morgan....got..." and then blank, i was so nervous that instead of pressing the button that saves that message i deleted it. My mom didn't sound too upset from what i could make out on the phone, but my imagination went haywired.

Got What, did Morg get shot (i know, i know but i didn't know what to think), get ran over, pass out, fall down the stairs....Then i was mad that my mom would leave a message like that on the phone but not pick up when i try to call her. So i'm pacing the room, and need something to get my mind off of that until she calls....so i go to the book sale and buy 4 books. Damn. By the time i get back to my room, my mom calls. Morg is okay...he just has...i can't say. It's too embarassing. Way embarassing. Lets just say he's a little constipated.

I laughed my ass off, as my mom tells me about my brothers frantic call on her cell, saying that he can't go to the bathroom. I laughed out of relief, and out of the fact that my brother has been to the hospital more time than any human should.

Morgan(it's his middle name, but we've been calling him that since i remember)..is not clumsy, he is just naturally getting himself hurt. He was hit by a car when he was 8, he jumped out of this massive rope tower at the park and had a concussion, he was bit by a dog,and then we were all in a car accident when we first moved here.

I've been there when all those accidents happened except the dog and the constipation. So naturally the hospital to me is like my second home. Some people hate hospitals, who wants to be in a place with sick and possibly dying people. But someone i see hope, when i usually end of walking the halls. That people can be made better, that life can be restored there. When Morg got hit by a car, i rode in the ambulance with him. I sat in the front with the driver...who i guess to amuse a 6 year old, asked me questions. I guess he didn't know that i was a pretty talkative 6 year old, who wanted to know all about his job, and talked about being a doctor when i got older.

When Morg fell off the thing in the park,(i was 12 then) i hung out with the doctor in the catscan room. Once again talking about my non existenting medical careeer. The took to me as i to them.

When we first moved here i was around 14, maybe. We were headed to our new house when we were Hit in the side. Going into a pretty steep ditch. The airbag smacked me in the face pretty badly, but Morg got hurt the worst. My mom, had to get small stitches on her face, Morg had a chipped tooth and a big gas under his lip that had to get sewed up. I think i have a pretty rational personality sometimes because my mom does not handle pressure well. So i have to, so she doesn't completely break down.

The air bag, was so powerful that it literally punched me in the face, and while my brother and i looked like they were in a car accident, i looked like i had just gotten in a brawl with some people. We each had to get examined to make sure we were okay to leave.

Doctor: Are you feeling okay
Me: I'd feel better if you let me go to the bathroom.

He laughed, i guess thinking that i had to "go" but i really wanted to see what my face looked like. I thought it looked hot, i was always told that i had a pretty face, I've been called dool by every old man in the universe, and when i was really into acting people recommended that i do print work, of course with my bruised face, i took it as a badge of my toughness and struted through the place like i had owned it.

Something about that place, makes me heart beat hard...like it's where i'm suppose to be. I'm always reminded how hard people fight for survival in that place, and i guess that hows life is.I'd like to think i was a fighter. My brother sure as hell is.

So back to Morgan. And my mom and his adventure in the hospital. This summer i am going to be "volunteering" at the hospital. It's not really being a CandyStriper, but it sort of is. So when my mom went there yesterday for Morg, she meet his doctor, who she can only say "Beck, i almost boned him yesterday". My mother...a one for words isn't she.

So... no my mom did not shack up with the doctor, but she said he was the most gorgeous man she had ever seen. You should have heard her, she was pawning about him like she was a school girl.

Mom: Beckett, i am not playing he was so gorgeous like he stepped out of a GQ magazine or something.
Beck: Who
Mom: Morg's doctor. Morg told me his was big, so i was thinking he was a fat doctor, but when he stepped in to meet me, i almost passed out
Beck: why?
Mom: he was so FINE. I mean he was big alright, like 6'2, black hair, those cute little glasses you always talk about, and built like a great GOD.
Beck: he was Greek
Mom: I don't know, but my knees was buckling he was so fine.
Beck: he can't be that fine?
Mom: he was that fine.
Beck: God, why wasn't i there....Do you think i will see him this summer?
Mom: I hope so, you should have seen him, all of a sudden he leaned against the wall, with his hands folded....
Beck: Clearly a hot manuever....go ahead
Mom: and in my mind, i was like "are you trying to taunt me, i will jump over there right now..."
Beck: Mom, thats gross, i don't need a visual.
Mom: and then he was like, in his sexy deep voice "if ever need to get in touch with me, if you have any questions or concerns, i work at the free clinic on Wednesday, just give me a call".
Beck: Damn, even that was hot
Mom: So i was like, in my head "i can call you anytime, tonight"
Beck: I don't think thats what he meant mom
Mom: i know...but you should have seen him
[and then she like does a girl scream so loud, i pull the phone back]

Lets just say, i am more than happy that i am going to be working at the hospital this summer.

Damn, my chemistry test is tomorrow. I should be studying, but once procrastination has won. I spent 2 hours in the library, because when i'm in my room, i...well write in my journal, watch tv, and listen to music.

I turned in my essay for English class, can't wait to get that grade back, i may have half-assed it. I am just so nervous about getting this chemistry down. Mike...oh Mike...didn't even bring it to class. The professor totally hates him, she said that she won't take his excuse for missing class, though if it were someone else she probably would. She stares at him as if he is an idiot, and asks him question all the time in class, secretely hoping he would get it wrong. We are learning about Deconstruction today, and we listened to Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton and are trying to find the hidden meaning the song. I was trying to hold my eyes up.

When she starts the class, she mentions what happened last week

Professor: So if you weren't her last Tuesday, we had a pretty good class. Crazy Chick in the corner made cheesecake and then we shared some pretty personal things with our reader response. I say it was a pretty good class, and we learned a lot of interesting things.[of course she didn't say crazy chick, but i would have said it]

I stare at her like...were we in the same class.

Clearly Crazy Chick put some crazy juice in the cheesecake.