If you have been wondering where I have been, and judging from the comments and web traffic, you haven’t, I got a little sidetracked this week. It involves a bit of math and science. Here goes:
Take 153 pounds plus 83 years old, divide by a 2 x 4 throw rug, and multiply by the force of gravity to the power of one heavy glass coffee table plus the square root of a concrete floor covered by a thin carpet. What do you get? A big lump on your head and a fractured hip. It’s been one of those weeks.
A close relative fitting the description above managed to break said hip and wound up in the hospital. It just so happens I was in the other room when the hip breakage occurred which was a good thing otherwise it could have been more worse. After a trip to the emergency room, x-rays, cat scans, MRI’s, and a multitude of gizmos and gadgets hooked up to the 83 year old body, said relative went in for surgery on Wednesday. It was long and arduous, both for patient and relative awaiting patient. But said surgery was successful and now begins the long process of rehab and healing.
Needless to say, between running back and forth between the hospital, calling other relatives with updates, and dealing with the stress of almost losing a very close relative, writing has not been high on my to do list.
As it is, the worst is over, I hope, and the rehab will begin in a day or so. What happens from there is yet to be determined. No matter what, any plans I had to return to Hawaii or Florida are now on hold. I am going to be needed here to help and it’s ok. As much as I hate Pennsylvania, this is family and if they need me, and they do, I will stay as long as needed. Island life will have to wait.
As for right now, I am pretty well whipped. Not enough sleep, food, and a lot of stress. Seeing a close relative in pain, trussed up with a neck brace and in traction is not a pleasant sight. I did want to take a selfie but said relative was not too cooperative. Break one hip and suddenly nobody has a sense of humor.
And for all the disdain I have for the medical industry, in this case they did their jobs and did said jobs quite well. The EMT’s got to the apartment quick, although given the average age of the residents of this place, I think they make a regular stop here every couple of hours. The building should have a drive through with a take out window large enough to fit a body through.
The hospital itself is modern and well equipped. In fact it is the very same hospital I was born in 62 ½ years ago. It looks very different from I remember but I was pretty young at the time. The only downside is the room where said relative is staying looks out over a huge cemetery. Not the best selling device although the dark figure roaming the gravestones wearing the black robe, carrying a scythe, and pointing a bony finger at the windows was a nice touch.
As I was spreading the news about the accident to relatives, friends, and neighbors, I got some offers of support but mostly people said they would, ‘pray for us’. If it’s all the same, spare me this bullshit. Praying is just telling someone you sympathize but can’t or don’t want to really help. Want to help? Offer something tangible. A ride to the hospital. A cooked meal. Come in and clean up the apartment while we are sitting in the hospital. Sit there with your eyes closed and finger clasped together and you ain’t doing a fucking thing. No magic man in the sky is coming down to make things more better. If the son of a bitch did exist, why would he have let such a painful accident happen in the first place? Take your prayers and shove them up your ass thank you very much.
Anyways, by the weekend we should be out of the hospital and in rehab. As I said, it all depends on how said rehab turns out and what happens when said relative returns. I will remain here to help and do whatever is necessary. Any plans to head out to Hawaii or Florida are on hold until things calm down. Postings may be a bit thin as we deal with this but I will do what I can. It will be ok.
I went to the hospital yesterday wearing one of my Columbia fishing shirts unbuttoned with a t-shirt underneath and long pants. As it happens the fishing shirt is white so somebody commented I looked like a doctor. I should have went and found a stethoscope and clipboard somewhere and made some rounds. I’d tell people their insurance was cancelled by the trumpenführer and to fork over a credit card. Bet I could have pocketed some serious cash.
Paging Dr. Fritter.