Emergency Room Blues

LIVING A DAY IN THE EMERGENCY ROOM
We spent today at Frankford Hospital in the Emergency Room with Harry’s eighty-four year-old mom. Lately, I’ve become involved in her care because both she and Harry are hard-of-hearing and talking on the phone for Harry is kind of hit-or-miss. One never knows who really called or what they actually said. So I knew Harry’s mom was in trouble and when the intake nurse noted words the senior Mrs. Polis did not say, I insisted on their correction. (I don’t think they were though anyway.) Even though his mom has had heart surgery, anemia, can’t eat, and started to have way worse problems today, she was sent home. The hospital doctor never called her specialist who told her to go to the Emergency Room and I wonder what information the doctor he did talk to was given. That poor woman would be dead if it weren’t for Harry. He takes her to her doctor’s appointments, gets her medicine ready a week at a time, buys her groceries, arranges for any and all services and does all her paperwork. She worries anyway. But I’m good at soothing; Harry gets aggravated. Being old in America is hard. Without adult kids to care for the elderly, the care is haphazard at best. Medicine is so expensive, it’s criminal. Mrs. Polis still gets triple digit hospital bills she’ll never be able to pay on her meager social security. This is insane.
We adopted a cat for her last year; Pumpkin was on her mind all day. All she wanted to do was go home and give Pumpkin his dinner. This cat doesn’t miss a meal—ever. I was sure he was a couch potato until the other day when I sat on the floor with him; he bit me for checking out his ears which turned out to be infected. Before the hospital day came up, we were scheduled to take Mr. Pumpkin to the veterinarian. Hopefully, he’ll get there tomorrow and I’m sure he won’t be a happy cat. Nevertheless, having Pumpkin has been a very happy experience for Harry’s mom. He’s got spotless kitty litter and chooses his favorite food through ignoring the kind he doesn’t like.
Our son Brian and his girlfriend Christina came running to the hospital today too. Little things like the love of grandchildren, the support of her children, and the “devotion” of a golden tabby can make life worth living. I hope.
This article will be in SCOOP, USA published Nov. 4, 2005 in Harry's weekly column. I just put it in here because I wrote it, it happened today and I'm pissed. Our health care sucks. I've lived long enough to have seen it go from excellent for middle class people and poor to non-existent for most everyone else; to poor etc. for most everyone. And it's not just the health care itself; the incomprehensible bills, hurdles, and expense is overwhelming. Old age is truly scary and our country makes it ten times worse.