12-25-2005
Finally, I get a break from various crises, an opportunity to sit down, organize my thoughts, and as John Cameron Swayze used to say "be an eye-witness to the happenings that made history" (at least MY history).
The first crisis began with a phone call from my brother telling me that our 89-year-old father was in the Mayo Clinic hospital (in Scottsdale, AZ) having had either a heart attack or a stroke. 24 hours and some frantic phone calling revealed that neither event had occured, that he had gotten a really bad flu and the attendant infection and pneumonia had made him temporarily delusional and disoriented. When his wife tried to get him to a doctor (I still don't know why an ambulance wasn,t called immediately), he fell and couldn't be moved. My father is over 6 feet tall and weighs (he says) 220 plus (I think significantly plus). Since even with a neighbor's help he could not be moved, they finally called an ambulance, who took him to the hospital.
We pick up the story the next day when I called him at the the hospital. He told me (1)he was feeling very weak, (2) that they wouldn't feed him (he had an IV in), and (3) that the hospital was inefficient, the nurses inferior, and they kept forgetting to bring his medicine. I should mention at this point that my father was for 10 years a hospital administrator. He is also chronically pessimistic.
After a long series of cardiac tests and various brain wave tests, heart failure and stroke were ruled out. My father then told me how unhappy he was with hospital procedure ("I'm just a number here") and how things would improve greatly when he got to re-hab, at which he was supposed to stay at least 10 days to get back his strength and mobility.
He arrived at re-hab and informed me (1)that he was feeling weak, (2) that the food was lousy, and (3)that the re-hab was inefficient, the nurses inferior, and that they kept forgetting to bring his medicine. Then he told me how much better things had been at the hospital. He then told me he wanted to go home, which was a bad idea because by this time his wife had the flu also and can't take care of him. At this point I leave this crisis and take you to another.
My daughter has flown out this week from Colorado and is staying here with me because her adoptive sister is having difficulties with her pregnancy and needs her support. I will untangle our family relationships later, but suffice it to say that my daughter is my daughter and her sister is not. Her sister had preeclampsia and the baby had to be C-sectioned in the 34th week. All week Ericka , my daughter went to Stamford Hospital to help out her sister and her sister's husband. After various crises , the baby was born yesterday (what a great title idea). Mother's fine, baby a surprisingly large 4 lbs 11 oz, 8 APGAR. Crisis over.
I got up at 5 this morning to drive my daughter to the airport so that she could be home by noon to spend Christmas and Chanukah with her children, my wonderful grandkids Ruby and Lucy. I love my daughter. I wish I could have all her crises for her.
Throughout all of this , I've been packing up my office which is re-locating after 15 years. I'm somewhat of a packrat and throwing away a ton of useless stuff has been excruciating for me. Crisis? Maybe. Feels like it to me.
God, because He occasionally feels like testing mortals like Job and me, has conspired to put the Christian and Jewish December holidays on the same day this year. So in the middle of all these events, my wife and I wrapped 27 (count 'em) presents yesterday. This out of a total of 50 plus that we're actually giving. The American economy can never fail as long as I'm in it.
Enough. Later.
Finally, I get a break from various crises, an opportunity to sit down, organize my thoughts, and as John Cameron Swayze used to say "be an eye-witness to the happenings that made history" (at least MY history).
The first crisis began with a phone call from my brother telling me that our 89-year-old father was in the Mayo Clinic hospital (in Scottsdale, AZ) having had either a heart attack or a stroke. 24 hours and some frantic phone calling revealed that neither event had occured, that he had gotten a really bad flu and the attendant infection and pneumonia had made him temporarily delusional and disoriented. When his wife tried to get him to a doctor (I still don't know why an ambulance wasn,t called immediately), he fell and couldn't be moved. My father is over 6 feet tall and weighs (he says) 220 plus (I think significantly plus). Since even with a neighbor's help he could not be moved, they finally called an ambulance, who took him to the hospital.
We pick up the story the next day when I called him at the the hospital. He told me (1)he was feeling very weak, (2) that they wouldn't feed him (he had an IV in), and (3) that the hospital was inefficient, the nurses inferior, and they kept forgetting to bring his medicine. I should mention at this point that my father was for 10 years a hospital administrator. He is also chronically pessimistic.
After a long series of cardiac tests and various brain wave tests, heart failure and stroke were ruled out. My father then told me how unhappy he was with hospital procedure ("I'm just a number here") and how things would improve greatly when he got to re-hab, at which he was supposed to stay at least 10 days to get back his strength and mobility.
He arrived at re-hab and informed me (1)that he was feeling weak, (2) that the food was lousy, and (3)that the re-hab was inefficient, the nurses inferior, and that they kept forgetting to bring his medicine. Then he told me how much better things had been at the hospital. He then told me he wanted to go home, which was a bad idea because by this time his wife had the flu also and can't take care of him. At this point I leave this crisis and take you to another.
My daughter has flown out this week from Colorado and is staying here with me because her adoptive sister is having difficulties with her pregnancy and needs her support. I will untangle our family relationships later, but suffice it to say that my daughter is my daughter and her sister is not. Her sister had preeclampsia and the baby had to be C-sectioned in the 34th week. All week Ericka , my daughter went to Stamford Hospital to help out her sister and her sister's husband. After various crises , the baby was born yesterday (what a great title idea). Mother's fine, baby a surprisingly large 4 lbs 11 oz, 8 APGAR. Crisis over.
I got up at 5 this morning to drive my daughter to the airport so that she could be home by noon to spend Christmas and Chanukah with her children, my wonderful grandkids Ruby and Lucy. I love my daughter. I wish I could have all her crises for her.
Throughout all of this , I've been packing up my office which is re-locating after 15 years. I'm somewhat of a packrat and throwing away a ton of useless stuff has been excruciating for me. Crisis? Maybe. Feels like it to me.
God, because He occasionally feels like testing mortals like Job and me, has conspired to put the Christian and Jewish December holidays on the same day this year. So in the middle of all these events, my wife and I wrapped 27 (count 'em) presents yesterday. This out of a total of 50 plus that we're actually giving. The American economy can never fail as long as I'm in it.
Enough. Later.
posted by Papa Bill | 8:08 AM
2 Comments:
I hope everything works out for the best Bill. Have a joyful holiday season with your loved ones.
Wow. Life does seem to get more complicated over the holidays. I can't help but relive my dad's recent experience while reading of your dad's hospitalization. I hope it all works out!
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