Walkin' in Memphis

Daddy’s gone from bad to worse. He has kidney failure and is in a hospital in Memphis waiting to see if he can get a liver transplant. Waiting, for him, means mostly sleeping. Mama says he’s very tired and very weak.

I'll find out soon enough for myself. I’ll be in Memphis sometime tomorrow night. My older sister and I are leaving in the morning and will get there after the last visiting hours, but we’re going to stop by the hospital and see Mama before we head on home 2 hours away.

Daddy was fine when I talked to them last week, and today I got a call at work. “You need to call home. Your father’s in the hospital.”

I started shaking so badly that I could hardly hold the phone. I hung up and just sat at my desk for a minute, trying to figure out what to do. My first decision was to go home and call Mama from there where I would have more privacy. Then, I pulled my boss out of a Board of Directors meeting to tell her: “I’ve got to go home. I don’t know if I’ll be back today or not.”

“Not” turned out to be the correct answer.

I spent the whole afternoon trying to rearrange a flight that I already have scheduled for mid-August. No luck. At least not any luck cheaper than $600 when you throw a new rental car reservation in the pot.

So my sister and I are heading up north to the south tomorrow. The two of us and her herd of dogs. I’m going to put a blanket down in the hatch for the canines and just hope they don’t chew on the trim or on my clothes.

I’ve spent all evening on the phone and sending emails, making lists so I won’t forget anything, writing down contact information and trying to get packed. I’m guessing that I’ll remember what it was that I forgot about the time we get to Dallas. At that point, if I can’t afford to buy it on the road, I’ll have to live without it.

Up until now, the main thing that has concerned me about going home has been the “gay issue”. Having to explain myself to the legion of relatives I have up there. Right now, I don’t really give a rat’s ass about any of that.

He’s my daddy, not theirs. If he can accept me, then they by God better do the same. And if they don’t, they can bite my white hairy ass. I have the Daddy seal of approval, and that’s all that matters.

I’m taking a nice lightweight charcoal grey suit with me. I hope I don’t have to use it, but if I do, I’ll have it. If worse comes to worse, I’ll be ready. At least as far as wardrobe goes.

The rest of me will put on a brave face, then come home and fall apart.