Bill to Clinic/Emergency Treatment in Still Listening to Spirit

I sat here, fingers hovering over the keyboard, wondering if I should even post an entry today. I spent some time yesterday morning talking to Nita in NC, my bestie I met when we were both near bottom functioning alcoholics trying and succeeding in keeping our neighborhood library open. We encountered each other again in after care at a local hospital where we had both gotten sober. She had a year on me, and I am amazed that she continued in after care so long as I did not.

Anyway, I needed to talk to her when I was in crisis the other day (seems like months or years ago now) but couldn't. She was at the dentist when I first tried to call her yesterday and returned my call when she got home. We both have great fear issues with dentists and her procedure was 'awful'. She encouraged me to pour it all out saying that it might distract her from her troubles.

I get positive input from her, exclamations over how I even coped, good questions regarding my plan for the next steps, and overall comfort. We get each other, bonded through crises and joy of over 25 years, some living in the same town and now apart, her in NC and me in AK.

I hung up feeling empowered, loved, and understood. I had also called Madame yesterday in crisis and she was not home. When she called back yesterday morning, she said she was having her hair colored when I called, then just forgot. I talked to her briefly about the whole debacle. I am grateful she was not available when I first called. So much might have turned out differently.

Madame observed that last year it seemed to her that I was getting burned out selling tours and dealing with less than intelligent and cooperative strangers and might need a huge change in job soon. She pointed out that everything happened just as it should, resulting in me getting to back away from the chaos, aggravation and sheer stupidity of dealing with tourists.

I am in awe of how wonderfully the Universe, through many people and incidents, arranged things so I could continue to work in a less stressful position. Peace, I need some peace. I need to succeed in a way that allows me to point and say "There, that's done!" For years I have been saying "That's done for today, so we'll do it all over again tomorrow."

So, yesterday (Wednesday? Yup) I got up, went downstairs, looked around and picked up a broom. The garage hadn't been swept, straightened, whatever in a year I'll bet. Hub had been sawing pallets for fire wood, splitting wood, the dogs had been shedding large amounts of hair, dog food spills, on and on.

I decided I would just sweep without moving too much--the areas where we walk mostly and such. I began, I did not over exert myself, I just swept, picked up with dustpan and swept some more. All of this had been bothering me for a very long time and I had the opportunity while Bill slept upstairs to make some sort of difference.

I did it, I had energy left, I felt a great sense of accomplishment. It's far from in order, but there is more order than there was.

I came back upstairs to a still sleeping Bill. I was glad he was sleeping. I was encouraged that this cold-flu thing might get better for him with rest. He doesn't rest, not really. If nothing else, he stays upright in some sort of mistaken idea that he is 'doing' something.

Rest has never been a part of his nature. I am ever hopeful that after this crisis, it will be.

When he got up out of the recliner he slept in, he fell down. Now, he has been falling down for about a week on a regular basis. None that I have seen, he sometimes casually mentions it indicating he thinks it is because of his back which grows increasingly painful.

This was a collapse, I could 'see' the difference. Between the 2 of us, I got him to his feet, walked him behind me hanging onto my shoulders to the bathroom and returned him, despite his vehement protestations to his chair.

For a week, he has become less able to talk above a mumble or whisper, the effort too hard and the words coming very slow. He hadn't eaten until the night before in a week and only ate half a sandwich that night. I knew, just knew, he was dehydrated, starved of food and energy and that I needed to overcome all his protests and get him to the Clinic.

I called the Clinic, yes Lynn was in but had a full schedule. I explained to the receptionist briefly what was going on, asked that Lynn be made aware, and ended by telling this fairly new receptionist to write this down: "Bill will come in but won't put pu with any bullshit." Receptionist was surprised and asked me to repeat, I told him that Lynn would understand.

Lynn called back shortly, asked to talk to Bill, and told him to come in at 3:30p, earlier if he thought he needed to. I called Heath, explained and he said "Just take care of your family."

At the Clinic, Lynn insisted Bill have a wheelchair. He was wheeled to the 'emergency' room, one of 2, where traumas and such are handled. she took her time listening to Bill talk very slowly and laboring, listened to his chest, started an IV, etc.

Pneumonia, dehydration, no food, all the labor to move caused Bill's blood pressure to be 210/`124--stroke territory. very scary. We were there for 2 hours with Lynn coming in to monitor him, check blood pressure, etc. and to let the IV rehydrate him.

Going home was problematic. Lynn didn't want him walking or driving. She wanted to send help home with us to get him upstairs. I cannot drive the Jeep, it has too many unusuals--barely any brakes, being only one of them. After much negotiation and discussion, including sending him home in an ambulance--which we hadn't paid the subscription to this year which would have cost about $600, AND Lynn offering to drive him home and we could get Jeep at some later time....Bill convinced her he would take things in stages, resting as he had to, and would be fine.

Sigh, she wheeled him out in a wheelchair, we got settled, he got the Jeep started, and off we went. To the market!!! Bill wanted me to get food--we did need it--and whatever hydrating drinks, soups and such a we needed. So I shut up and went.

Wednesday, the day the barge comes in, the day everyone goes to the market after 4 or 5 pm to gather food for the week. It was 6:20pm, the parking lot was full, there were only 2 buggies left in the row, I knew I was in for what I like to refer to as "Combat Shopping" . Although I haven't done it in a year or two, all the moves came back to me quickly.

I plowed through throngs, stacked stock boxes in the aisles waiting to be opened and shelved, toddlers, chatting locals, confused newbies, darting in and out to grab what I wanted. I looked no one in the eye, I said neither please, thank you, excuse me, or MOVE YOU IDIOT! I filled my cart, headed for the cash registers. I put my loaded cart in line and then darted around the store grabbing things I forgot.

A hundred and thirty-something dollars later, I got back to the Jeep, loaded it up, and got into the passenger seat. We sat for 5 or 10 more minutes while Bill got the strength and ability to drive and home we went. I got him inside the garage and into the recliner there with instructions not to move. He didn't.

I made 4 trips upstairs with groceries, 4 bags per trip, unloaded frozen and refrigerated stuff into the fridge and went back downstairs. I told Bill to get up, get upstairs, he could change clothes and shoes there, I would carry up what he needed. I fed the dogs, changed my clothes, and waited impatiently for Bill to move. He would not.

He told me to go upstairs, he would follow. I was too tired, facing putting away groceries and somehow making something for us to eat, and just didn't have any more energy to push him around. I told him in case he missed it that Lynn's main concern was him overexerting himself--driving his blood pressure up over 200 again and stroking out. He NEVER heard her say this....I did, not in those words, but it was the biggest concern she had about the pneumonia. She gave him Levaquin, 5 pills which last year cost $25 a pill, to clear up the pneumonia.

So, I went upstairs, put away groceries, fixed him some Gatorade, got the dogs inside and calmed down, and Bill did come upstaiars, parked himself in his recliner and relaxed. So did I. We had ham sandwiches, half each, and some Chunky Steak and Potato soup, and him lots of gator-gag, which is what I have called it for years!

I fell asleep in my chair and instead of waking me up, Bill took the dogs downstairs and settled them for the night and then came back upstairs to sleep deeply and long in his chair. He is still there, I am here writing and figuring out how I am going to get to work and back without him driving me.

City bus no doubt to work, I can call and request a pick up 1 block from the house. Getting home? Don't know. If I work past 6pm, or 9 pm, the buses stop running and I cannot walk home. Oh, I could, but I would have to take it in stages, find places to sit to rest, um.

Ido not have to figure that part out, not now, not today. I only have to figure out how to get there.

Okay, I am too busy, too tired, too engaged in what is happening to think about anything but moving forward. I only have to do what is in front of me, do not need to plan ahead, think of past or future, only today, now, moving from one now to the next. Pray for me, pray for Bill, pray for Emma.

Yes, Emma was 3 years old, the daughter of one my oldest grandson's besties---a group of boys and girls who had fabuluous friendships together, good times, and so on. Her mother and her mother's boyfriend somehow managed to beat this poor child, bruising her poor little body and causing her brain damage. Emma died yesterday in Wichita, Kansas and the two 'adults' responsible are in jail. Mother 24, boyfriend age 23. A sad, sad thing and has deeply troubled my 24 year old grandson.

And last, for Cody. A bright shining young man with whom I worked booking tours, he worked for the tour operator across the street from Greg's. He got cancer, he fought it for over 2 years, even working last summer although how he did, I have no clue. He came home to Skagway Monday and died at midnight Tuesday.

Madame and I opined that the thunder rolling over our skies (very unusual here) plus the 5.8 earthquake at 4am within the same 12 hour period were Cody's way of playing one final prank on those who love him who are left behind. I do not doubt it. Kevin shot off his cannon last evening in tribute. That shook the earth and shattered the sound barrier I swear it did.

Blessed be!