Year: 2012

I don’t want to whine but…

This week is starting to invite whole new definitions of the term “suck.”

Wednesday: Mom gets rushed to emergency room when she blacks out momentarily in her room at the assisted living facility. It’s ultimately diagnosed as a low heart rate, probably brought on by her Alzheimer’s medication and a blood pressure drug. Ultimately, she’s in for four nights.

Thursday through Saturday: Mom is fairly low-maintenance. Things are surprisingly peaceful. I even spend most of Saturday being geeky in the basement.

Sunday: Mom still in hospital. Dad has a nasty fall outside his favorite breakfast spot. The ambulance comes and patches him up (“we can see clean through to you skull’) but he opts against going to the emergency room. I happen to call him about an hour afterward, hear about what happened, and decide that I probably need to drive over to Greensboro and see what’s going on. By the time I get there he agrees that maybe he should go to the emergency room. Turns out he has a small skull fracture in the area of his cheek bone (not as serious as it sounds) and bleeding behind one of his eyes. He’s admitted, too.

Monday: Mom is released. Dad remains in the hospital being considerably higher maintenance than Mom. I miss much work at a time I can ill afford to, sitting with him while he complains. A lot. Using the  same words over and over again.

Tuesday: More complaints, but at least I got a little work done. I’m starting to worry that Dad will need a sitter for a few days after he’s released and that he will likely be very difficult about the prospect. His head injuries are no longer the big concern; now, it’s his heart rate and the fact that his leg is really sore from the fall and walking is difficult.

Wednesday: Dad is not released but no one tells me until 4PM. I get in six hours at work. And then they call from Mom’s assisted living. Apparently she has had a really bad night, going a bit berserk, threatening to blow up the place, accusing them of killing babies, bothering other residents, etc. They say they can no longer handle her and she needs to go to the emergency room. I say “fine” as everyone in the emergency room now knows me so I get preferential treatment as a loyal repeat customer. Mom’s issues are apparently related to the medications she switched to after last week…or a urinary tract infection. The assisted living facility will not allow her back in until she’s been examined to their satisfaction so she’s admitted to the hospital for the night.

Coming tomorrow: I probably get to bail both of them out of their respective hospitals and figure out what to do with them since the healthcare system has no real clue. And I miss another day or two from work, even though I really need to get ready for the rather important presentation I have to make in Ohio next week (but that I’m increasingly scared I won’t be able to make). I now feel completely and totally held hostage by all my parents’ assorted health issues and am wondering if this is all I (or my parents) have to look forward to in life over the next few years. The prospect does not make me happy.

One wonders…

…if there’s a volume discount for having both parents in the same hospital.

Mom was admitted last week with a low heart rate, apparently the result of medication interactions, and this morning my dad fell and hit his head. Mom gets out tomorrow. I’m currently in the emergency room with Dad. I don’t think they’ll admit him but I’m not sure yet.

Not to make this all about me but I’m about to tear my fucking hair out. And I don’t have a lot of hair to begin with.

All the best programming

Cablevision of Greensboro, ca. 1976. The exciting options included two ABC affiliates, two NBC affiliates, one CBS affiliate, one PBS affiliate, and three independents (two from Washington DC, and the third Ted Turner’s “other” station in Charlotte NC). The lineup was rounded out with rotating weather gauges on one channel and a news teletype on another, both backed with audio from local radio stations.

In the next year or two, things would get more complicated with the addition of HBO and Ted Turner’s Atlanta superstation (pre-capitalization and then sporting the call letters WTCG). I think the two Charlotte stations got dumped for those additions.

Traditional, biblical marriage

As we are so often reminded, God’s definition of marriage does not change over time and it’s helpful for us to go back and examine the biblical source material. One of the most heartwarming accounts of traditional marriage is the very special love story of Jacob and his wives Rachel and Leah. Jacob, later called Israel, was the (literal) father of the “twelve tribes” and can be seen in many ways as the founder of the Judeo-Christian tradition. This is his story as I learned it in Sunday School as a child:

Jacob, having recently deceived his elderly, blind father in a successful attempt to steal his brother’s inheritance, fled to his Uncle Laban’s place many miles away. Upon arrival, he fell in love with Rachel, his first cousin, and decided that they must be married. So he agreed to work for Laban for seven years in order to buy her.

Unfortunately, at the end of the seven years, Uncle Laban pulled a switch and sold Jacob his older, less attractive daughter Leah instead. Jacob, having been tricked into marrying Leah, was forced to work another seven years in order to purchase Rachel and marry her as well.

Jacob did not care much for Leah (although he evidently had sex with her often enough to produce ten sons) and very much preferred Rachel. God, who apparently does not appreciate his creations playing favorites among their collections of wives, punished Rachel (rather than Jacob) by refusing for many years to let her bear children.

Eventually, however, Rachel had two sons of her own, one of whom led the family to Egypt, where they became slaves for four hundred years.

And they all lived happily ever after.

Thank God for an unchanging definition of traditional, biblical marriage that we can all appreciate and understand.