Making this one short and sweet. Had my blood drawn on Friday, then Saturday they called and said the lab screwed up and threw it all in the freezer when it was supposed to be room temperature. So I had to go in on Saturday and get more vials sucked out of my arm.
Oh and did I mention that last night I found out VIA EMAIL that my stepfather has a few days to live and is in hospice (not that I was told where – obviously not important for anyone to share with me, and that no one asked for me, it was actually more of an informational that included…get this, his last name…did I mention I grew up with him since he moved in when I was 5 shortly after my mother and father divorced?)…
You know, even when you aren’t tight with your biological, there’s something quite shitty about getting told things after the fact via email. Oh and it was from my brother (who I haven’t seen since I flew down to see him 2 years ago for my 40th birthday), who lives in California and was here ALL WEEKEND – emailing me AFTER he left town.
Classy. But why’s it no surprise?
- When I was 6, I spotted my great grandmother’s obituary in the paper which is how I found out she died (I was quite precocious and read the paper as a young girl and saw her picture).
- When I was 19, I found out from my mother’s hairdresser’s wife (who was a coworker & friend) that my mother had breast cancer. My friend: “Are you going to visit your mom at the hospital?” Me: “What are you talking about?” Turns out she’d had a mastectomy. I left work that minute, got a ride to the hospital, and walked in to have family say, “oh look who decided to show up”. Side note: I found out years later that my sister was fucking the aforementioned married hairdresser.
- When I was 34, I found out from my grandmother 3 days after my father suffered a stroke, that he was in the hospital (he died a week or so later). By the time I was contacted, he’d already been put into a medical-induced coma (he was conscious when he went in so his other 3 daughters and his wife did get to talk to him). When he died, after spending every last cent I had to take time off work, rent a car and stay by my father’s bedside til he took his final breath (which I was there for, holding his hand), I couldn’t get anyone in my family to give me a ride to his funeral 3 1/2 hours away and when the burial (here in town) occurred, my stepmother told me it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to speak at it (this is after her daughter lied in his obituary, never mentioning my father had been married to my mother).
- When I was 37, I found out via email from my aunt that my grandmother had died – and had been checked into the hospital for a week before it happened, just 2 miles from my house where I could have visited her had I known. (She’d not been returning my calls but was always a little weird like that so I hadn’t thought anything of it.) At the funeral my aunt tore me a new one for having the gall to invite my cousin (her biological daughter who she’d given up for adoption and reconnected with 14 years earlier, who had bonded with all of us).
So it reminds me who family really is…and it ain’t got shit to do with DNA.