Saturday,
May 4, 2002
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. junk off S. 1st
"Attention to health is the
greatest hindrance to life." |
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time marches on Mom asked me to come stay with her while Dad went
somewhere. I'm really enjoying sleeping but I dutifully get up at seven
and get in the shower. Hair still wet, I decide to call to make sure he's
getting ready to go. "It's not today," he says sleepily. Mom was confused but she didn't get unconfused and call and tell me. My dad asks about a place to get a wheelchair. I told Mom yesterday there was a place, when it was open. She didn't tell him or he didn't hear her. "It's open from ten until one," I say. Well, I'm up. And clean. If I hadn't already showered, I'd go for a dog walk or go with FFP to exercise. I dry my hair and decide to take care of a few things. Write an e-mail to my friend in South Africa. Go over our personal budget, pull up credit card info online and compare to the receipts we've saved. I call the parents back and my mother answers. "So, do you want to see about a wheelchair," I say. "No. I want one of those canes with four things on the bottom so it doesn't fall over when I sit down. Dad said he might get me one." "I can go get one if he isn't going to do it," I say. She puts him on the line. He wants a wheelchair. That type of cane is too unwieldly, he thinks. We don't need it yet. OK, let's do it.. He comes over, brings her along. Her back hurts a lot, she says. It hurts to breathe, she says. She dressed in the most comfortable thing she could find, she says. She has on a demim jumper and a white blouse. She says she has 'lost a lot of weight' but I can't really tell it. We go to the medical supply store. The woman goes into a long discussion of getting Medicare help for you...you have to rent to own and fill out a bunch of crap. She shows us a transport chair that Dad can lift. Since she can get in and out of it and doesn't have to sit in it for long periods, it will be fine. I tell her to forget the prescription and reimbursement. We'll just pay for it. Dad picks out a cane. Not one with feet but a better, adjustable one. I vote for a mauve but he vetoes it for chrome. He asks the lady for a discount on the cane and she gives it. Even though we pay for the stuff we have to fill out info so that if anyone ever tries to claim it on Medicare, the store can prove that they explained everthing and we decided not to try to get anything. Otherwise, the woman says, Medicare can make the store reimburse us. This is probably true. Or maybe it's a scam. But it sounds like something that could be true. Dad is happy with this solution because he can get her places more easily. I pay and tell Mom it's her Mother's Day present. She's been sitting in the hot car while we went through all this and is complaining. I think getting a cane and wheelchair for Mother's Day will make her mad but it doesn't. I don't know what to do for her, I really don't. I imagine she does hurt. A lot. It's probably arthritis. I have no idea if there is anything that can be abated that is wrong with her. Maybe the physical therapy will help. Maybe the cat scan screen on her lung will reveal something. She coughs a lot and complains that it hurts to breathe. At least she is walking a little.
I go over our personal finances, clean up junk in my office. I dispense with a wedding invitation (no, I'm not going to Florida to see a cousin's kid get married, yeah I'll log on to some online site and buy some overpriced towels). I toss the invite into a folder I've kept around for thirty years or more, a folder full of wedding invites, baby announcements, graduation invitations. It is the one filing thing I ever did that made sense. (Although knowing when somebody married that first spouse is not always especially useful.) I try to clean up other files and the piles of newspapers. I fret a little over the fact that there are all these folders, many neatly labeled that are useless now (a club that no longer exists) or have been neglected vis-a-vis collecting contents to file and deal with. I always have great visions of getting organized. Then I forget the scheme and where I put the stuff. But, you know, it doesn't matter too much since FFP and the bookkeeper now keep up with the important stuff...taxes, business records, credit cards, check books. And they do a good job. I think anyway. Everything seems to get handled.
Mom calls a couple of times from her cell phone. Not because she's calling me. But because she forgot how to use it and she is pushing buttons and I'm in her phone book. I can't remember the exact buttons on her phone to tell her how to do it. Just use the regular line, I tell her. Dad is calling his sisters.
We made some new friends at an event the other night. They have suggested we meet at a Vietnamese place on N. Lamar. Tam's Bakery and Deli. We have apps...a pork sandwich cut in four pieces, an egg and tofu thing that is great, shrimp chips and a refreshing blend of shrimp and vegies in a rice vinegar. Some other stuff. Cream puffs for dessert. It's all delicious. This place rocks. We take our friends back to the house to see our garden and see where we live. Then we head out to Four Seaons and garner a table to hear Rebecca. It will ebb and flow with our friends...Gene, Amy, Steve, Craig as the bar becomes crowded with the overflow of events. Two weddings have taken place and the lobby is awash with many people in tuxes and fancy dress, contrasted with us in bright short-sleeved shirts and casual pants and shoes.
We stay up too late, and bed seems the only option when we get home although we watch a little Antique Roadshow from our bed before falling asleep. I didn't get much done today, sadly. I had some fun, though. I enjoyed these new people who like to talk about museums, art, word origins, food. They've had many interesting jobs, they enjoy flying, know a lot of people. Good addition to our crowd. I enjoyed skimming through old papers (some going back to Decemeber!). I thought about work, but I didn't do any.
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180
JUST
TYPING