Grandma Smith

Grandma Smith wasn't really my grandmother, but she treated me like she was. My ex-boyfriend Kyle and I broke up over fourteen years ago, but Grandma Smith still invited me into her home with open arms and cookies. She was a great woman, and she passed away this past Tuesday. Unfortunately, I can't go to her funeral up in Pawnee, Oklahoma; I really wish I could. Last Christmas Eve, Kyle and I went up to give her gifts and see her (we still go up there together every once in a while). And, now that's going to be the last memory that I have of her. Fortunately, she was happy and surrounded by loved ones.
Plus, two summers ago, Kyle and I went up to stay with her for a week. We took her into Stillwater and got to know more about her and her history. I'm glad we got the chance to do that. I'm really going to miss her.

Facebook

First off, for the second time in a little over a week, I've lost my voice. Last Saturday, I had a horrible allergic reaction to something I ate and my throat swelled up so that I couldn't speak. Good stuff. Today, I think it's more of a cold/flu thing. Who knows? At any rate, it doesn't really matter because I found Facebook where I can communicate with all my friends and family without speaking... yay!

Facebook has ruined my blogging. It's possible that it's a slight addiction. I'm fine if I'm not near a computer, but if I am, I like to check my facebook page and those of my friends. I've found people I haven't seen since Montessori school, seriously not since I was four years old. Of course there are people from elementary, middle, and high schools... plus the ones from grad school, oddly I haven't found anyone from undergrad. I love to read the little stuff and could easily see how twitter got going. Even when people are just going to get a cup of coffee or found a new website, I'm interested in it. Crazy voyureism.
But, it's not just the people, it's also the aps. I love to chase rainbows, send flowers, super poke, and play mob wars. Facebook may be ruining my life, but I'm having fun going down hill.

Squeaky Wheel

My father spent all day Thursday at the hospital waiting for an EP test. That's all he did, just wait. There apparently was only one operating room with all the necessary electrical equipment to perform the test, so it was booked solid. We were finally told that he could have the test at 2:30pm on Friday. Okay, we're a pretty easy going bunch, but having the test done at 2:30 meant that he'd have to stay in the hospital until Saturday in order to recuperate. Plus, he was on a no food order which meant that after midnight on Thursday he wasn't allowed to eat anything until four hours after the surgery. So, if they were on time, he wouldn't get to eat until sometime well after 6:30 pm.
Since he was already restless and putting on his street clothes by Wednesday evening, I figured an extra day for no good reason was going to put us all over the edge. I did what everyone should do in that situation. I complained, loudly and often, to anyone who came in the room. We even did a pre-checkout, making sure all of our bills were paid up; and I told the accounts receiveable person to make the test earlier. I asked everyone to move up the time and told everyone that we didn't want to be in the hospital over the weekend.
This morning, the moved the EP test up to 8:30 am. Dad got his test, which stopped his heart (it had already stopped three times on it's own on Wednesday and did some freaky little static thing), and they put a pacemaker on him. He's on his way home now. Yay! He's still a little woozie, but at least he can sleep in his own bed tonight, which will go a long way to healing his head anyway.
I told him it was great that he's part cyborg now that he has computer chips running his body. Awesome.

ER Frustration

My father upgraded my cell phone for my birthday to one that can check my email. We went to Circuit City, bought the phone, went out to his trcuk, where he called to make sure the new number worked.... and that's all he remembers until nearly five minutes later. What happened was: he drove out onto the frontage road of 290, made a noise, and lost consciousness. After grabbing the wheel and narrowly avoiding several cars, trees, people, and whatever else was out there, I was finally able to get the truck in park on Brodie. It was scary and I thought he was dead. But he came to, refused to go to the hospital, and drove home in a loopy fog (which he also doesn't remember). My mom came home and together we were able to convince him to got to the ER.
This is where everything would appear to be great. We were immediately taken back and his insurance information was taken. He was still foggy so my mom and I had to fill in the details of medical history. We were moved back into the bed area of the ER and they took blood and hooked him up to a heart monitor. They also took him in for a cat scan. A doctor came in and said that they were admiting him for overnight observation and an MRI. It sounds good, right? Fast, reasonably efficient. At no point did anyone actually examine him. Nobody checked his eyes, which were at pinpoints; checked his color, which was super pale; or asked him any of the stroke questions. The doctor didn't even touch him, and we only saw the guy once - for less than a minute. Not only that, once we got admitted, the nurse decided it was too late to get the MRI to determine if he had had a stroke and rescheduled it for the morning. At several times, I tried to bring all these things up, but we never saw the same person twice. So, once the question was asked and concerned logged (or not), we never heard from that person again. It was completely frustrating and I don't know what to do.
My dad got plenty of attention, but no care. And I'm scared that something is seriously wrong, but because he wasn't examined, it won't be addressed.