Thursday, December 15, 2005

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Bubba Freda Is Pushed Out the Hospital Doors In Her Nightgown


My mother-in-law is frail now; I'm glad I knew her when she was tall, big-boned, and could walk outside in below zero weather in only a shift dress and flip-flops. She was a dynamo. Harry thanks me all the time when I help her, but I miss my own mother and I'm glad to help Harry's. She took herself to the hospital this morning because she couldn't get out of bed; she didn't want to wake us. Freda had fallen twice a couple of days ago, so she thought perhaps she broke a bone or two. It turned out well; no bones were broken and she was ready to return home after a few hours. We stopped at Freda's apartment and I put together an whole outfit and then we drove to Holy Redeemer Hospital's emergency room where Freda still was. No sooner had I asked where Freda was than a young man came zooming out the double doors with Freeda in a wheelchair. Her bathrobe was safety-pinned together and she had on knitted footsies. I protested saying I wanted to get her dressed because it was freezing cold outside, but Holy Redeemer was finished with Freda and she had to leave, ready or not. Luckily the car was right outside, so with only her coat over her nightclothes, we hustled her into the car and home. Once there, I took care of Pumpkin cat who Freda worried hadn't had his breakfast. At about twenty pounds, Pumpkin hasn't missed many meals and he definitely wasn't leaving the kitchen until this one was ready.
Harry complains his brother doesn't help him with Freda, and I keep telling Harry his brother can't really hear about anybody else and does Harry really want his brother hanging around? Also, Bubba Freda is almost 85, so how much time does she have left? She had heart surgery again last year and has heart failure. The government drives Harry crazy with their forms on Freda's behalf and Rite Aid does the rest when he tries to get her medicine. Then she forgets, takes the wrong ones, or calls five times asking the same thing. Luckily, she now calls my cell phone and I don't get annoyed. I can't imagine any older person keeping track of everything necessary for Medicare, Blue Cross or whatever medical plan the person has, in addition to paying bills and dealing with all the scams that come over the wires every day trying to ensnare old people. It's a tough world in a very mean-spirited country.
The mixed-media painting is the Angry Chicken which I thought was appropriate today.

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