When I went down to count meds yesterday at the grands, Daddy decided to go visit our mayor Mozella and take some candy and a strawberry pie. I dropped him off on my way home and he walked back to the house about 1/4 mile away. I called Mom after a decent amount of time to ask if he had made it back. Not yet, was her weak reply. About 30 minutes later I got a call from her saying that he had fallen on the way home and "wanted me to look at him." BG and I loaded up and went down the road to find him bleeding literally from head to toe. Numerous abrasions from head to toe. Said something about chest pain and nausea, but it passed. I got to thinking about that chest pain this morning and scooped him up for an ER visit where he was told that according to cardiac markers, he had indeed had a mild heart attack. His response? I'm going home. He did allow the testing to be done and sign the proper papers for AMA discharge so I'm out of it. You cannot MAKE somebody accept treatment, and obviously he was ready to go to the house come hell or high water. Case settled. I wasn't real thrilled about being there anyway...just doing my duty. I did manage to throw out a few things like "you're so stubborn" which he took with a stoic face and a determined will to not give in. I know the look and know when to give up.
It's still warm but by tomorrow will be about 30 degrees less so. I can't complain because it is, after all, December. Here's hoping that the two little oil heaters that BF bought get us through. Propane guy is still wanting to know how long he has to wait for his $$ and all I can say is "bless his heart" for not turning me over to an agency like everybody else has. I was particularly touched when I thanked my friend the hand surgeon for not doing that very thing, and she responded that she knew what was going on with us. 'Nuf said, and bless your heart too girl!
We just learned that our neighbor died today following complications from surgery. She was younger than me, and a very nice lady. My memories of her include she and her husband standing on the other side of the flood water in a golf cart during the BIG one. Rest in peace, Donna. My brother and I have talked more the last two days than we have in weeks so I don't feel alone in this. BG is primed and ready for whatever needs to be done. Her favorite thing is to lay on the couch in their living room covered with an afghan. She stayed with Mom while me and his orneriness were gone this morning.
One of the biggest blessings of being in healthcare is that one becomes, not complacent, but realistic about quality of life. There are so many rules and regs governing the industry that it can turn into one giant gigabyte in a computer rather than humanity. Many of those rules and regs are set by the Medicare people who are demanding more for less with some added quality. As a side note, many of them are politicians who know absolutely nothing about how the whole thing works. The so called "death panels" that the right wingers are so eager to pounce on are actually a good idea when considering how much of our GDP is spent on diagnosing, treating and sustaining life in order to avoid lawsuits by sleazy ambulance chasers. End of life care counseling is something that has never caught on because A. Doctors can't get paid for it and B. They normally hate to be the one bearing bad news. It takes a certain type of practitioner to understand the challenges of a geriatric population, of which I will be sooner than later. If I were not my parents' advocate, both of them would have had heart caths in the past year which is an extremely high risk procedure for the elderly.
I do have the tree up, finally. It seems way too quiet around here without Faith but the other three make up for it, especially Ryder. This dog is only ten months old and HUUUUUGE per her Great Dane paternal genes. Those toes are webbed though, and she has her mama's pretty brown eyes.
Keep the faith ya'll. Give somebody a hug. Lord knows we all need as many as we can get ^j^