It's been an interesting week.
Wedneday I went to the funeral of my niece's Aunt Denise. She was 37. Coming home from work last Thursday she slipped on the ice, knocked herself unconscious and died, in her driveway, of hypothermia. Her Mother found her at 6:45 am Friday.
Last Friday my sister calls to say she's broken her ankle by falling on the ice. I spend the rest of the day in the ER with her. The hospital declares she needs surgery, but take her home until Monday 'cause they're not doing surgery at 5:30 pm on a Friday night. This was just the beginning of several WTF coversations I've had all week.
I get the crippled one back to her house, up two flights of stairs, and one of my brother calls. Seems my Dad, who had the plaque scraped out of his arteries in January, had gone numb down the right side of his body. After a six hour car ride to Maine I suggested he not take. Should we take him to the ER? my brother wants to know.
No, no... just let him lie there on the floor until dead, mkay?
Several bizarre and mind-blowing conversations with doctors in Maine, doctors in Connecticut, it's decided that another brother would drive our parents back to Connecticut on Sunday. Both Dad and my sister had doctor's appointments on Monday. Which ended up happening on Thursday instead, because gawdfuckingforbid a doctor bother his/her uselessfuckingarse to tend to a patient. I spent Thursday with Dad at Yale while Mom spent the day with my sister, who was having pins and plates put into her ankles.
According to the medical geniuses at Yale, after doing several different scans of both the brain and body, Dad's fine. No problem. He can go home. Most likely a pinched nerve from the driving, that's the ticket. Really, they assure me, he's fine.
So, today, he's in Norwalk Hospital. Numbness down the right side, feels like his head is unattached from his body. Not that he's a having a stroke, they tell me. But they're keeping him for the weekend for observation. Just in case.