Sharon went to the ER on Tuesday for abdominal pain.
We were there for 13 hours trying to get answers. C-T scan, chest X-ray, blood and urine tests. The only conclusion was that she was dehydrated and had a bladder infection. Duh.Fremont-Rideout sucks. Their computers were down and the ball was dropped numerous times, so we waited 3 hours between tests while the left hand tried to figure out if it was a left hand or not.
Deep thoughts? I am not mad about the poop anymore. I think that a routine, no matter how monotonous, will be missed when it is gone. I just think about all that Sharon has gone through these last 3 years and I feel so sad for her.
Now she's in a hospital room, and I'm sure she's missing being at home with her cats, her computer and her TV. It's not much, but it's all she's got. And being in a hospital with incompetent fools looking after you is no fun.
Friday, August 5, 2011
Journal entry for August 5, 2011 (Sharon and the ER)
Hi, I'm Andrew, AKA Hoodyup the Evil Caregiver, and I approved this blog post. I may not have been in my right mind at the time, but what's done is done. I stand by my sins. Eppur si muove.
I started this blog as a way to vent my frustrations with life, the universe and everything (not the book by Douglas Adams; that was quite good, actually).
My seemingly charmed life took a turn in 2004 when my wife Sharon was diagnosed with MS. This blog documents the fallout and revisits the past, as well as chronicling my dreams and rants throughout the years.
Be warned - explicit language and content that runs the gamut can be found in these posts, which describe personal events, both real and those dreamed up by my overactive nocturnal psyche.
Also, I use real names whenever possible, so if you see a post with your name on it, it probably refers to you. Unless, of course, you don't know me, in which case it is purely coincidental.
Enjoy your visit. Comment, if you so desire, or lurk privately. This blog can be your guilty pleasure (or displeasure).
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I've changed my comments settings to allow for anyone to comment. All comments are welcome, even spineless potshots from anonymous posters. Please, by all means, give me the tongue lashing I so richly deserve. I promise not to hunt you down and melt your keyboard with my plasma cannon. I won't, however, promise not to pout and make that face you can't stand.