In the spirit of "there are no bad events, only good stories" I share with you Birthday Adventure '013: Is There Morphine in this Roadtrip?
After a late night of singing at the last sing along of the summer (NO Mock Turtleneck Guy! Ugh! Tragedy! But we did sing "Don't Cry for Me Argentina" and KILLED it.) and then dinner at the Nickel Diner where we ate our collective weight in dessert (a PJB poptart, a blueberry lemon poptart, a ding dong that tasted exactly like an actual ding dong but with a 1:1 cream to cake ratio, the Oaxacan chocolate bread pudding and a coconut tapioca, all homemade, all the best thing I've ever eaten) I eventually made it back to my parents where I was staying the night because Dad and I were hitting the road early for Utah.
And we totally did. We hit that road at 5:45. And we made it a whole 15 miles, all the way up to Rancho Cucamonga, and stopped because my dad was writhing in pain. Here's how much pain he was in. I said, "I think we should go to the hospital." And he said, "OK." Like he doesn't hate hospitals and being around sick people. So we got him to the hospital, they gave him some morphine and took a CT scan and discovered that it's a kidney stone. Poor Dad. But also, such a trooper. He made sure that I mentioned to everyone I talked to how well behaved he was. No complaining or whining. A model patient. I kept joking with him that this was the beginning of the end, that this was just a precursor to all the times I'm going to have to take him to the hospital in his old age. He made me promise that if it ever got to the adult diaper stage I would leave him out in the wilderness to be eaten by wolves.
So we didn't make it to Utah today. Probably Monday. But the nurses kept wishing me a happy birthday. And I reminded my dad that the last time we were in a hospital together on August 17 was the day I was born.
After I dropped him off at home I picked up a Slurpee and went home and took a nap. So, not what I expected from the day, but you can't beat a Slurpee and a nap.