After that initial stay in the hospital my mother was briefly discharged. Even though we all had major concerns about her coming home the hospital still discharged her. Sometimes I hate this country. America, allegedly the greatest country in the world and yet you’d get better health care in a war torn 3rd world country. Patch them up, stablized them, and then ship them out. This is how an outpost hospital worked during the civil war. My mother was barely home two days when I recievaed the call. This time it came in the morning from younger sister. I was in the middle of making breakfast for myself and Marie. “Good morning Josette,” I answered. “Greg we are taking Mom back to the hospital,” she said. “What happened,” I inquired. “We just can’t do it. The pain mess aren’t enough anymore, and she is starting to forget stuff.”, she said as voice cracked with an overwhelming amount of emotion. “Ok take her. I have to go to work for a few hours, but can be there in the afternoon,” I replied. She hesistantly agreed. I know she wanted me to take the lead on this, and drive down to help get my mother re admitted. Honestly I could have taken the day off and helped her. My mother would have prefered that, but I needed everyone to start pulling their own weight. This blood cancer, multiple myeloma, seemed to be a slow killer from what I read on the internet. There was a an important meeting at work I was not entirely lying, but still it made me feel like a bastard to put work before family. Even more so I hated myself for having this imaginary scoreboard in my head that was constantly keeping track of everyone’s effort. My mind was exhausted and needed a break. Driving to work I packed an extra large bowl of week in my pipe that morning and took a few extra detours on the drive in. I knew it was going to be a long day and I wanted to be extra numb for the day’s events. Especially if I had to head back to the USC medical center. I pull into the parking at work in a smoke induced haze. Every part of me relaxed and all the sharp points of my world temporarily dull. I was relaxed until I see a sight a sight that instantly steals my well deserved high. It’s a sight that to this day still causes my stomach to tie and my penis to retract back into my body. A light blue Prius. Dianne’s car. My fearless leader. I say fearless because you have to have a heart to feel fear or any other for emotion for that matter. I put a few extra drops of visine in my eyes knowing I have to walk by her desk to get to mine. I joke to myself as I swipe my badge and enter the building,”maybe diet coke has the same effect on the heart as it does the kidney. It slowly dissolves them. I think I might have mentioned Dyanne drinks about gallon a day. It’s her elixir for beauty and good health. Plus it helps her keep those dark circles under her eyes extra dark and deep. I can’t help but laugh at the thought of all this as I step out of the elevator. The floor is empty. Afterall it’s 7 a.m. Also known as the hour of the dead in Corporate I.T. “Hi Dyanne”, I say trying to hide the obligatory tone. “You’re here early today,” I say in a veiled attempt to be friendly. “Yeah I slept horribly and my back was killing me,” she replies. I have learned to never ask Dyanne questions such as, “how are you?” or “how was your weekend?” If you do you have to know you are setting yourself up for one of her 30 minute long diatribes about her vegan husband or her over privaledged judgemental mother in law. I haven’t mentioned it before but Dyanne is Jewish. I’m not saying all stereo types are accurate but Dyanne loves to complain. Her upper lips curls instinctively into something half way between a snarl and a smile whenever she blurts out a snarky negative comment about someone. I’m not saying they are never insightful, but her comments, input as she may see it, is always negative. Maybe it’d her way of giving back to the world. Afterall they say we all have gifts and we should use these gifts to give back to the world. She is definitely gifted…at being a rude incorrigible bitch. Doesn’t she see that her behavior just reinforces decades of negative stereotypes about her people? I’m Mexican and I feel it’s my responsiblity to not have a lot kids. Likewise of I was Asian I would feel obligated to be a better than average driver. After a few minutes of painfully superficial charting with the boss I excuse myself so I can attend to some neglected email before our weekly team meeting. As I sit at my desk I remember I forgot my linch and breakfast on the kitchen counter. One of the occupational hazards of a stoner is that your short term memory goes to shit. Which I guess is better than your long term memory. Imagine how fucked it would be to forget your name instead of your lunch. I read a few emails, make a few phone calls and before I know it it’s time for our team meeting. Today we are discussing and assigning new upcoming projects, which is one of the reasons I wanted to be at worked today. There is a project I find interesting. Ok I will be honest. I found out Ivy is working on the supplier portal project and I want to get closer to this girl, or at the very least get to be in the same room with her a couple of days a week.