So few people in my life call me Chrissie. At work, it is usually Christine. And most friends just call me Chris.
It's actually weird when people do. It is mostly family, and a few folks from different parts of my life and history. Doug calls me Chrissie, and my ex-boyfriend from college and some of my other college friends do. My mom and dad. My sister. My sister's bestie Ginger.
And, my cousins, Billy and John (Billy probably prefers "Bill" in these, our older years so he can relate to this I'd think) Billy spells it all wrong. He texts me and says "Hey Crissy," which is just a crime against nature.
And it seems that John has introduced me to all of Richmond Virginia as "my cousin Chrissie."
John moved here to Richmond, oh - and yes I said "here" because that is where I'm sitting right now. More on that momentarily - back in 2021. He went to college nearby, has many a frat brother friend who, as he says are "more brothers to me than my own at times." Several of these fraternal bros are in this area. He considers Richmond his home. "My fair city," he calls it. He called me crying when the riots happened here, "they are tearing down my fair city..." to whit I said "well, sometimes you just gotta stop and ask, why that's the case, friend. Why."
We do not see eye to eye on some historical events, or on say... race relations. He has certain attitudes and feelings that I do not subscribe to. But, he is kin. I've expressed my disagreement with some of his causes and his terminologies when he talks about people. He probably thinks I am "antifa" but. I am hardly that.
I'm good, and just, and fair, and kind. And he isn't necessarily. So. Let's just say that.
John needed to have surgery on Monday. About 5 or so years ago, back up in Massachusetts, he had a bout with some kidney cancer, and they took the lesions, left the kidney (sort of like leave the gun, take the cannoli only with body parts). He recently discovered that the cancer was back, and this time, the doctors all decided that the kidney had to go.
It was his left kidney, and Doug and I kept referring to it as "Lefty," as in Townes Van Zandt's "Pancho and Lefty." Lefty had to go! Before he killed Pancho! So we sang that song a bunch and joked around about ole Lefty's gotta get out of town up to Ohio. John pretty much has no sense of humor. At least none that we can detect. Glad Doug and I could have a good laugh, without him knowing.
Anyway, his surgery was scheduled for March 14, and Bill(y) flew down here to hang out with him and spend the week to help him out. Well. As things go in life, surgery was canceled and rescheduled for March 21. Billy couldn't stay down here any longer due to his vacation starting today. So he helped John get some shit together and get food and things organized, and went back home Thursday of last week.
I can work from anywhere, so we decided I'd come down and help out. I was kind of under the impression he doesn't have anyone who could just be here, but it turns out he has a lot of friends and contacts. Just. Probably not reliable ones who can stick around overnight, or even for more than a few hours. I'm far better suited for post-surgical care than anyone I've met that he knows here.
Doug and I drove down Sunday night, and we got a later start than usual. John had us meet up at his buddy Dan's place. Dan and his partner Mike have a lovely old house in Church Hill, with a player piano and lots of the best vintagey looking furniture and stuff. John told me that Dan prepares dinner for many on Sunday nights, 6pm start for all takers. We were the only ones to be partaking of the open table, along with John.
We came up the steps and knocked. A very well dressed Dan (tie! suspenders! lovely dress shirt! fancy shoes!) opened the door and said "Aaah, Cousin Chrissie has arrived!"
John must be referring to me as his Cousin Chrissie. Alrighty then. I guess that's who I am.
I introduced not Cousin Doug, and we came in to cocktails, cats, and a nice dinner. We had a wonderful time hanging out together, and took a lovely walk to look at Richmond from Libby Hill Park.
We had a toast of some whiskey or bourbon or something that I never would normally drink but it was offered to me, and Doug yelled out, "To Lefty! Get outta here!" and Dan and Mike howled laughing. John, not so much. They yelled back "To Lefty!"
We played Simpsons Trivia. I thought Jess would love to be hanging out with us and it made me miss them. It was a delightful time.
Surgery arrival time Monday morning was 5:30am, so we all set alarms for 4:30 to get up, get out, get ready. John packed up his bag, smoked some weed, paced. We all were in our beds at like 11. I could not fall asleep for the life of me. Sometimes a new, strange place with unfamiliar and unfriendly pillows will do that to me. I eventually got up to pee at about 1:30am, and fell asleep pretty much after I got back in bed. John and I both woke up before our alarms. We were there early, John walked 10 paces ahead of me, I could tell he was super anxious about all this but putting on brave strength in the form of fast walking and strong shoulders.
After he was checked in, Doug and I tried to go out to a pancake and waffle joint that was allegedly open 24/7 but damn it was closed. Thanks, Richmond. Not knowing where else to go, we hit a McDonalds, got some coffee and brekkie sammitches, and went back to John's to await news. Turns out there is a really nice coffee roaster/nosh shop 2 blocks from him, they open at 6am, and we could have gone there if we were prepared. We got the chance to take them up on their offerings later.
The hospital called me at about 8:30am and said "hello Cousin Chrissie, we wanted to give you an update on where we're at with John."
Oh man. He told the hospital staff that I'm Cousin Chrissie too. Jesus tapdancing..... okay. I guess here I'm Cousin Chrissie too. They told me they would call me frequently to keep me updated. Nice!
I attended a team meeting on zoom at 10:30, made sure Doug could grab my phone if it rang and it was the hospital. He went in for the procedure at about 11. Doug and I went to lunch up the block at a lovely neighborhood foodrinkery, and the hospital called me right when we were finishing to let me know he was done with surgery. They said he'd be transferred to a room, and was asking about his backpack, which we had. I told the nurse we'd bring it over. We went to the hospital and I was allowed up to visit and drop it off. He was a super zombie, as to be expected. I didn't stick around long.
We went and took naps. Having gotten less than 4 hours of sleep, it was a good nap. We woke up in time to go out to eat at a place Doug had been to when he was traveling through Richmond for work a couple years back. Full write up on Mekong is in the beer blog. Great food, great beer. Beer is the answer.
Tuesday morning there was no internet here at the house so neither of us could work. We went to the coffee shop around 10am, juiced up, got brekkie sammitches, and Doug did some looking around for what breweries were open on a Tuesday while I scrambled to use Slack and communicate with my manager and team to let them know our situation (thank God for loving co-workers, great data and phones!).
I figured Jess would love them. I was right.
Doug wanted to hit the road and head back north, Geoff had some things he had to do with the car on Wednesday early, so he needed to be up north. The hospital called while we were on our way back to John's to say they were sending him home that night. I thought for sure they'd be keeping him since it was already 4pm at that rate. But. Okay. Doug hit the road, I hit the mattress to take a nap and wait for them to call me with the exact time.
John was sprung from the hoosegow at about 6pm, I had his car which I think was the better bet instead of him trying to climb into the Jeep. The hospital filled his prescriptions so we didn't have to stop anywhere. We got home, read through his discharge paperwork, when he should take the muscle relaxer (needing a 2 hour buffer before or after the Oxycodone) and the stool softener and whatnot.
He forced himself to stay awake until 10 when it was time for the Oxy. We got him hooked up in his bed, pillows and the cat (who missed him horribly) arranged nicely. He slept until 1 and got up to go to the bathroom, I listened for any signs of need, which he did express. He needed help swinging his legs into bed, we did a med eval, I got him fresh water. He slept until 6 and then needed some help again.
That's why I'm here, fam. That's why I'm here.
And then I was wide awake, so, I got him situated, went to the coffee shop, and started my workday bright and early. John has been a little bit of a whiny baby, as a lot of men are, but, I have to say that today he was a trooper. He got out of bed at 11 and didn't go back to bed until 8. He got up and walked around when I suggested he get up and walk around. He ate a sandwich, first thing he's had since Sunday. He is anxiously awaiting a poop. Once that happens, we'll know he is pretty alright.
I stayed up after he went to bed doing some more work, watched some TV. And now I am in bed, ready to go lights out myself.
That's all to be determined.
My final note is about the cat. Her name is Lily, she is going to be 16 in June. John says she is his life.
He told me she hates women (he's a bit of a misogynist himself so I guess he passed that on to her). John was briefly married many years ago, and when they split up, she came back for the cat and he told her to beat feet.
Miss Lily and I are good pals now. It took some work, but she loves me. And John, who swears that is something that could never be, sees that this is true. Leave it to Cousin Chrissie to make friends with the old bean.
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