It actually started Sunday night with my stepson helping me set up a gold-plated twin bed I’d bought to put in the back room so I could sleep downstairs. When it came time to use it, it was so tall that it felt like I was sleeping on Mt. Everest and ends of the mattress seemed to slope downward, making it impossible for me to sleep on it. So I finally went upstairs about 2:30 and slept until 4:30, when my Congestive Heart Failure wouldn’t let me sleep anymore lying down.
I took the pooch out and tried to nap in my chair, but with limited success. About 7AM, I went back up to try it again. I slept until about 9 and, knowing that I’d reached my limit again, sat on the edge of my bed to arise. Unfortunately, I fell from my seat during the effort, crashing my bad knee into the floor and flexing it greater than it had in many years. After I’d clambered back up and the pain had subsided, I asked the Lord’s forgiveness for my language during the aggravating episode.
I tried (unsuccessfully) to nap for an hour in my chair, took out the dog and then headed for town with my “to do” list, planning to get a taco for brunch. I was at the order mic when I discovered that I’d left my wallet six miles away at home. That particular Taco Bell has no “escape” lane, so I had to wait until the car in front got his order before I could leave.
I decided to go to my heart doctor’s office to see if they had any samples of Entresto to tide me over until mine came in. After waiting half an hour with a confounded mask on and my stomach growling, they told me that they were out, so I went home. There, I made a bologna sandwich and called the nursing home to see what was needed to start the ball rolling about making Mom a permanent resident. I also talked to my stepson on the phone about his mother’s finances and funeral plans. Then I went up the river to the hospital in the next town to see my wife. My stepson was kind enough to find a wheelchair with a “wide load” capacity and took me to her room.
Not surprisingly, she looked a disheveled, pale version of her former self. I don’t think she knew me at first. A mention of our dog seemed to make things click for her finally and I thought that I saw a look of recognition in her eyes. She obviously knew her son, though, as her eyes followed every move that he made. She tried to say a few words but was so weak that it was impossible to hear her. The only way I could communicate with her was to ask her questions that she could answer with a nod. She kept trying to drift off, which was to be expected.
I eventually thought it best that I go and told her so. For years, she’d argue with me when I told her that I loved her; today, she looked sad and got teary-eyed. I tried to lighten the mood a bit before I left and my stepson wheeled me away. We talked quite a while about our endeavors on our mother’s behalf before I finally left the lot.
I phoned Mom and got some information the admissions lady needed and then stopped by her bank for some information. I was unable to reach the admissions lady that afternoon, so I’ll try again Tuesday. I stopped and got the pooch some chicken and then headed home since it was water pill time. My list will still be there tomorrow I guess. Copyright 7/20/2021