Today I was a lot better prepared for dad's trip to the ER. I had water, protein bars, coffee, a hoodie, crossword puzzles, umbrella, all of it. And mum came right behind me - we took turns watching dad like a hawk; we didn't let him out of our sight not even for a minute. The doctors and nurses kept telling us to wait outside and we kept explaining they lost him the last time, so no way. And it happens all too easily, too - again, mum went in to switch with me, and he was not there, in front of the office - and she had to look and they found him in an 'observation room' where an orderly parked him after dad asked to be taken to the restrooms. They would have left him there until the end of shift again. It's really fucking scary. It just took four hours today, down from the previous six. I mean so far. I am still waiting.
The best part was his family doctor before it all began. The nurse on house-call took his blood yesterday and the results were supposed to be in today and when mum finally got to the doctor on the phone, the dumb bitch said he should probably just drink less. Twenty minutes later she's calling back, hysterical, that she looked at his bloodwork and she's already called him an ambulance and they're on their way!
Oh, right. Good thing she, you know, looked at his bloodwork. After questions like: What makes you think his heart muscle is weakened?... BECAUSE YOU HAD HIM TESTED LAST YEAR, YOU FUCKING RETARD!
Can people just take an on-line course and then get jobs as doctors? Because I am really worried about his medication regiment. She was literally asking my mum about the diabetes injections, whether those were, maybe, making his legs swell. My mum is a freaking art critic, not a family physician!
This is all super funny until one day when someone will die and our happiness will be over. These nightmares will seem like happy memories. Some day someone will die and we will wish to give anything to have a day like this back. A day of storms and over-priced coffee and retarded people in white coats telling us not to question them.
The family doctor wrote about his upper extremities being inflamed with some sort of dermatitis... Yes. My father has legs on his head.
1 comments:
This would totes make a good book. Like, just compile your blog entries together.
Sad to hear about your dad. And do check out that doctors license for authenticity
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