It started on Saturday when Auntie Glenda emailed to say her Grandma on her mother’s side (who she loved dearly) was probably dying from double pneumonia in a WV hospital. Then she texted to say her that Uncle Tommy (her Father’s elder brother to whom she was not especially close) was also in dire straits at a Virginia hospital: Uncle Tommy passed away on Sunday.
And then came the call from Mr. Happy Monday evening saying that he’d slipped down the basement steps Sunday evening and whonkered his head. Of course he waited to go seek medical attention at a clinic until Monday morning, and only at the urging of his co-workers who said he needed attention. He was sent from the clinic to the nearest hospital for a CAT Scan. They said it looked OK, so shuffled him off with the 5 staples from the clinic in the back of his head and a large, foam-bandaged left hand (we don’t know ….).
He made it to work, but the phone rang and it was the hospital telling him they’d shown his Scan to someone smarter who wanted to send him post haste to another hospital with smarter and perhaps more plentiful neurologists after detecting a small leak into the cranium. Not sure why they stuck those staples in – would have been easier to keep things flowing out rather than in, I thought, but then I’m not a doctor. Doctors at the secon hospital insisted on removing the foam hand bandage, and said that the loss of a couple of layers of skin wasn’t dire, and he’d heal. When he protested not having it bandaged and said it hurt when he washed his hands, they told him to use a band aid. Their concern was internal bleeding in the brain, and so he was placed in an observation room with a camera and not permitted food or drink (in case that had to drill in) or any trips to the bathroom. By the time he called Happy Bean, it was late in the day, and she could tell by his reluctance to provide a lot of details that he was not pleased with his situation, though he didn’t complain. Probably just embarrassed.
With things being rather up in the air, Happy Bean RSVP’d that she wouldn’t make it to this month’s doll club meeting on Thursday. Fortunately, Mr. Happy was discharged and allowed to go home on Tuesday afternoon with the doctors’ blessings, once he had proven his agility and stability when navigating the hallways under supervision. Auntie Glenda boarded a plane in Washington State, but Grandma Norma passed away late Wednesday evening before Auntie’s arrival. Grandma donated her body to science, and her Memorial service was set for Friday at 2:00 in Mt. Nebo, WV. Auntie Glenda will miss her greatly.
So here’s the family’s bit of dark humor. Happy has always said that, here alone in the Richmond house with skinny, circular, and very steep and dangerous basement steps, she could easily slip and end up at the bottom (just like Mr. Happy) for who knows how long before anyone missed or found her. So Mr. Happy has now proven this to be a real possibility. She is not going to stop reminding him of this until he finally retires and they live in the same house again. Life is short – they need keepers.
Don’t we all?