Back at home now. Little “h,” that is. The drive was again non-eventful, except for the howling of the cats. They’ve been so good for the past few trips, but last night’s drive really upset them. And it didn’t end when we got home: Digit spent most of the night up and growling at the windows until I lost all control and put him out at midnight, raccoons and possums bedamned. Then I worried and got up at half-hour intervals until four when he deigned to come back in, muddy and self-satisfied.Then I was up at six for work.
Mom’s feeling a leetle better, though tired and wobbly-pinned. She’s been newly diagnosed with hypoglycemia, which has been making her shaky and ill. She had to make an emergency room visit right before I went home, and they’re the ones who actually diagnosed this particular problem. Not her doctor, oh, no. That would be too easy. (Have I mentioned how much I abhor her doctor?) So armed with multiple test results, she was supposed to see her doctor today, FINALLY, after an agonizing, sick, three week wait.
The office called her yesterday at 5:03pm to tell her, oh, you’ll actually be seeing a nurse tomorrow, not the doctor. Mom was so flabbergasted she could only gulp and say okay. When she told me what they said, I pitched a fit and made her call back to find out the reason for the switch. But they’re canny. That’s why they call AFTER five o’clock — the phones roll right to the answering service.
(I told Mom that’s why daughters are good at taking care of their mamas: They can do all the swearing that the mama doesn’t want to do.)
Close your ears.
fuckers fuckers fuckers.
That’s okay, that doctor has NEVER done anything for Mom. She folds her arms and says, over and over, “I don’t know what’s wrong with you. This is not my field. I have no idea how to help you.”
This is her primary care doctor, mind you. The nurse she’ll be seeing today has actually helped her in the past, giving her advice and diagnoses and referrals, so that’s something. It’s just the principle. Ya know?
Mom felt well enough yesterday to go with me to the movies. We went to a matinee of Calendar Girls. Delightful little movie, and Helen Mirren was a hoot. But what was a bigger hoot was the audience. Arroyo Grande, where my parents live, is quite the retirement area. And they were ALL at the movie yesterday. Mom and I were the youngest there. I walked in with my popcorn and had to search the sea of white heads to find my mom’s waving arm. There must have been a hundred and fifty seniors packed into the stadium seating. One nursing home had come in a large bus.
And those seniors? Worse than teenagers. They hooted and hollered and yelled at each other. Cell phones going off all over the theatre. It was hysterical.
Now it’s my Monday. But it’s probably your Friday, so congrats! You made it!
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