On Monday, I received a call saying that the woman I care-take for has fallen down and will need me to take her to the emergency room that evening at 7 pm, when I would have gone into work. She hadn't lost consciousness, but needed to be checked out as a precaution - as would any 91-year-old. I got to the nursing home to pick her up 4 minutes late. She was sitting in the seat of her walker, looking miserable in the hallway. I walked her down to my Honda Civic and deposited her in the front seat. I had to fold her walker and fit it in the backseat, around the baby seat and miscellaneous junk that lives there. The task caused me to work up a sweat, trying not to hit her in the head with a wayward wheel. Finally we were on the way.
It took another 10 minutes to get her out of the seat and back on her feet. I signed her into the emergency room and we sat and waited to be called. This was an excellent opportunity to people-watch. The waiting room was particularly full that evening. At one point my lady leaned over to me and mumbled something. I had to ask her to repeat herself. She said, much louder this time, "There are an awful lot of fat people in this room." While she was right, I don't think many of them appreciated her comment.
While still waiting an hour later, I noticed a small bug on top of her white hair. Immediately I thought of lice. I edged away. She could have caught it at the nursing home! I couldn't stop staring at it. Then I thought it looked like a tiny little spider that was running around the strands of hair and making a web. I thought I should definitely take it out for her. But the nagging thought that it could be a louse kept me from doing that. I never took it out. I think it must have jumped out while she was getting a CT scan.
We finally got called in and they did tests on her. She was fine. Just after midnight, we walked out of the emergency room. She suggested we stop for a milkshake. The only option was to drive through a McDonald's and wait for 15 minutes for two kiddie size vanilla milkshakes.
When we got back to the nursing home, the task of getting out of my small, low car, was a much greater feat. As much as she tried and I pulled, she couldn't get out. I thought for a minute that I had dislocated her shoulder. I thought I better get some help. A nurse came out to help and we were finally inside. I dropped her off in her room and finally got to go home.
The next day, after riding around in the passenger side of my car, I got up and noticed that my right, back pocket was wet. What!? I couldn't figure out what it could be. I smelled the seat. ??? My sister and I concluded that it must have been some pee that came out during the effort to extract herself. Dang. I sat in it and it is in my car seat.
Last night, I gave her a French manicure. She said she felt like a rich person. (:
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