Sorry, no postings lately. I’m fighting some Bronchitis and my head feels like it is in a clamp. Coughing, and sniffing and aching. So I have been in the bed most of the day and have a trip planned back to NY, Carmel this time, tomorrow. So I am drugging it up and sleeping as much as I can.
Back in February my sister passed out from low sugar and somehow cut a gash in her leg (probably on a bed spring or corner. It was about three inches long and all the way to the bone. ER tried to sew it up but couldn’t, so she was transferred to the Wound Center at Wellstar Kennestone Hospital. They do not sew up wounds there, but they do medicate and wrap the leg and clean it out every week. So my brother, Sister Stephen, and I take her every week to get it worked on. It now looks like a 38 bullet hole and is getting better. She had to go today.
But because I am sick, Stephen had to take her by himself. Mary is 78 and has to use a walker, and if she moves too fast she gets dizzy. Well, they were working their way out the door to the garage, Stephen had set the lock and had turned to put her pocketbook on the top of the car. Mary fell, hit the door on the way down and it slammed on her little finger. The finger is not only broken, but the meat was pulled off the bone.
Stephen could hear her saying “Open the door, I fell.” but didn’t know she was hurt until he got back in the house. He had to lean into the door to slid her along the floor so he could get in. He called me because I seem to be the only one who can talk to her when she is in a mood. She knows I won’t take any of her shit. Anyway, she refused to go to the emergency room, only to the wound center. I told her that her time slot had already been filled (lie but who cares) and that Kim (the RN who works on her) said she couldn’t do anything until she got her finger fixed.
Mary was afraid to go to the hospital because she thought they would keep her. So I told Stephen, over the phone, to take her to an area emergency clinic about three miles away. She threw a shit fit (all this time sitting in the floor) that she would ONLY go to the emergency room. Stephen and I started laughing at her and then she started laughing.
She was still in the floor because Stephen has Parkinson’s and no strength to lift her off the floor, and we were afraid for me to be around her as she is so susceptible to getting what ever you have. And that is all she needs now.
So Stephen called her son, David, who still lives with her. He came from work, got her up and into the car and took her to the ER. She refused to let us call 911 for an ambulance.
She is a joy. Anyone want her? Cheap! I’m thinking Craig’s List.
