After the last trick or treater on Wednesday, we went to the ER. Not to get our candy X-rayed, but to get Beloved’s leg checked out. Same wonderful triage nurse as in June, same wonderful doctor, who said to us after reading the sonogram, that it was a very good thing we had brought Beloved in. You know that calm tone of voice that parents use when something has gone wrong and they don’t want the kids to panic?
That tone of voice.
Beloved’s right leg had multiple blood clots, notwithstanding the Lovenox he has been taking for a year for the ones in his lungs. He went via ambulance to the main facility after the twins quietly gave him a lovely and loving priesthood blessing.
I got home around 2:00am yesterday, emailed my attorney and office manager that I didn’t know when I would be in, emailed the family, and slept until 9:00 or so, when we got a call from MD Anderson. I was sufficiently awake to recognize the area code and the prefix, and to tell the caller that Beloved was in the hospital, but insufficiently awake to clarify that the hospital was not MD Anderson.
I sent more emails, made a few calls, and went to visit Beloved in the hospital. They are taking very good care of him. I like his nurses. His local oncologist had come and gone by the time I got there.
Wednesday night I left my cell phone in Lorelai’s trunk. Last night I left it in Beloved’s hospital room when I went out to see why it was taking so long to get him some pain meds. That wonderful nurse had gotten separated from her cell phone (must be an epidemic of some sort), and she took care of it right away.
I came home, sent an update out to the siblings and kids, and crashed. Thought I had set the alarm to go off at 5:15, but woke naturally a little after 6:00.
And now I am headed back to the hospital, with a meatloaf sandwich for Beloved and a KnitPicks catalogue for him to peruse for yarn colors, and then on to the office, where we have a mandatory diversity and inclusion activity at 10:00 and Attorney B has something that he needs for a hearing (or something) no later than 9:15.
My inner snark is just screaming to come out. There are two or three people at the office who don’t know how close they came, yesterday, to having their heads handed to them. I am in the process of disentangling myself from a committee that I didn’t want to be on in the first place. So far, the Tact Fairy is still very much in charge, but she definitely has more plates spinning than any sane fairy wants to manage. (Remind me to tell you of my inner dialogue regarding the office Thanksgiving celebration.)
Please keep those prayers and positive thoughts coming!
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!