Leaving Las Vegas, Metairie style
We were awoken from a dead sleep last night from the Jefferson Parish Sheriff who was standing in my mother’s apartment. She had fallen and was bruised badly and bleeding. We both raced over to Metairie to encounter three EMTs and one mother sitting at the kitchen table bruised, drinking and smoking. Not to mention, incoherent.
I had hoped on the way that this might be a segue to get her into the emergency room, but it seems like our doctor’s visit yesterday, the one where he told her that she needed to get off Ativan and alcohol, instead had the opposite effect.
We threw out two empty large bottles of whiskey and I picked up her phone message that was beeping from her doctor saying they had called the pharmacy to renew her Ativan prescription that afternoon.
Mom told T and me that she hoped we could stay the night or maybe just have a girl’s night one of these nights. But that was sandwiched in between her wanting to add another mattress to her already high bed so that she could put steps up to it like her grandmother had to her feather bed when she was a child.
Whatyagonnado?