But yesterday, my Dad was out by the pool pump messing around, and was bitten on the hand by a Copperhead.
At first, I did not freak out. This is the Captain. He can do anything. He's tough.
But, he's also stubborn. And he has Alzheimer's. Well, according to my mother, it's "just dimentia."
With his Just dimentia, he is confused. He doesn't understand why he is in the hospital.
When I talked to him on the phone, he seemed panicked when I asked him about the hospital. When I joked with him about the hospital, when I said, "Hey Dad, a snakebite, that's pretty badass. So are you all settled in for the night?" the response was a shrill sounding command for me to check my resources because he didn't know what the hell I was talking about.
It made me feel like I was twelve, caught in a lie.
And frankly, it scared me.
It's amazing about how with family, the stuff that you feel from a tone or just a word is so amazingly tied to emotion. Talking to my sister on the phone, I felt myself become tense and irritated when she mentioned going out to "take care of the snake." When I said that that task was better left to an exterminator, she reminded me with a haughty little laugh that I should remember she used to work at a nature preserve and knows a thing or two about snakes. This really got my hackles up. I am not sure why.
My other sister flies down tonight. This is a sister who never flies. That is how serious this is.
And my other sister and two brothers are mildly allowing me to handle flight control, which is not a bad thing but again, there's that weird family thing - that "underneath lies the truth" and the truth is a big pile of resentments lying coiled like a snake waiting to bite.
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