Being a Caregiver

Being a caregiver is full of challenges.  My sympathies to those caught up in bureaucratic red tape on a regular basis.  Dealing with doctors, hospitals, medical clinics is time consuming, and frustrating.

At the lab, we were recently turned away, because the phlebotomist couldn’t find the diagnosis code on medical forms.  A trip back to the orthopedist’s office.  There a nurse pointed out, the code had been there all the time.  Back to the lab for the second time.

Not that I haven’t had past caregiving experience.  It was just five years ago that my spouse suffered a severe wrist fracture.  We made it through.  That time she was mobile.  This time, with a fractured pelvis, she is dependent on the use of a walker.

Handicapped parking spaces are now important.  My wife has started getting out and about.  Some local restaurants and businesses are more friendly, to handicapped persons than others.

It had been at least 35 years since I last visited a Waffle House.  I think it was on a vacation trip to Orlando, Florida.  It hadn’t changed much in all those years.  Waffle House restaurants–you either love them or hate them.

On line restaurant reviews weren’t always truthful.  A local downtown diner/greasy spoon, was a disappointment.  The food was mediocre. The place cramped and dingy.  Prices were too high.

 

Bumps In the Road

My main blogging PC crashed a week ago.  My visiting son-in-law installed a new wireless router and fixed my newest PC–that also had issues.  I’m, once again, soaring into the blogosphere.

Perhaps some of you have submitted DNA samples to one of those genealogy websites?  Formerly a skeptic, my spouse participated.

During the fifties, in rural Mid-America, extra-marital affairs were kept hush-hush.  Her paternal grandfather, was not blood-related?  She’d heard  whispers during family gatherings as a child.

Not long after DNA results were tallied, the e-mails began.  An unknown person with a considerable amount of shared DNA.  A long-lost cousin?  Surely, it couldn’t be true.

In discussions, a young lady in her forties, from my wife’s hometown, revealed details about her family.  There were too many coincidences.  Family pictures shared, and the secret was out.

There were no living relatives, to confirm or deny.  Family secrets–should they be kept secret?  I inclined to think they should be, unless it’s for health reasons.

If only computer problems and genetics were the worst things that happened this week.  On Tuesday, my wife slipped and fell while debarking from a dolphin cruise excursion boat.  She fractured her pelvis in two places.  As bad as it was, it could have been worse.

Nothing was displaced, and she can ambulate cautiously with a walker.  A painful injury to be sure.  Our visiting daughter is a nurse.  She helped to clarify questions regarding prognosis and treatment.  For the near future, I’m stepping up my game around the house.

 

 

 

Sometimes Things Go Astray

Since last weekend, I’ve had muscle spasms in my back. Today, at least, the pain moderated. That was, until someone parked too close, at the gym. Crawling across the front seats from the passenger side, didn’t help matters.

A windshield rock chip was repaired this afternoon. That also occurred unexpectedly last weekend.

Tuesday, I noticed something on one of the car’s back tires, upon retrieving trash bins from the curb.

It was a large galvanized nail, bent over, but the business end was stuck in the tire. It was discovered before my dog’s trip to the vet for annual shots and checkup.

I was sweating raindrops, until we got back home. The tire held air until I made it the repair shop. Of course, the tire was unrepairable.  I was out the expense of a new tire.

Every day is a new day. Sometimes things just go wrong.

Countdown

Countdown to vacation continues. The glitches are popping up with regularity. Most are minor things, that seem out of proportion.

Annual wellness visit has been scheduled, for after my return. The one-size-fits-all questionnaire has yet to be completed. Those of you retired, and on Medicare, can relate. The questions seem bizarre to me, but are purposed to identify those with special health needs.

The fire down below: Kilauwea, on Hawaii’s Big Island, is again erupting.  It was readily apparent on our visit in 2012, the volcano never rested.  On our helicopter ride, the fiery lava could be seen in fissures, below the surface.

More work gets done before and after vacation, than at any other time of year.  Much more to do on this last weekend’s countdown.

Near the Borderline

The borderline is a good thing if you’re hankering for some Taco Bell.

If your cholesterol is borderline–fast food’s not a good choice.  My annual physical is a little over a week away.

The gist of all this–I have to consume only poultry and fish, between now and then.

Starting after tonight’s roast pork loin dinner, with German potato salad, baked beans, and marinated coleslaw.

Time will tell if my dietary efforts pay off.

Another dietary concern involves my dog, Max.  He certainly isn’t starving for food.  Last night and today, I’ve caught him with baby turtles in his mouth.

They weren’t the sea-dwelling type, but rather, some species of land tortoise.  In any case, they deserved a chance to grow into turtle adulthood.