Like The Queen
Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content.


Geezer doctors! Yep. The paperwork I was given to fill out before I see the retina guy included the question, "Do you drive?" and I realized - again - that the aneurysm catapulted me into the Medical Senior Tour.

By Blogger Catherine, at 9:37 AM  

The daughters.... Yep, already being roped into that service more than once, recently.

I'm glad it went better than expected and that you got to play with J. Have a lovely Sunday. :-)

By Blogger Mary, at 11:02 AM  

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Sunday, August 12, 2007  

The good news is that the surgery was much less demanding, much less invasive, than the dr. had predicted. In fact, things went so much better that he was still almost gleeful when we saw him on Saturday morning. Consultations with a cataract specialist sucked up so much time that the 10 a.m. surgery didn’t begin till noon and BD wasn’t cleared to go home till about 3, but hey, we were staying in town anyway. Besides, waiting always means knitting time to me. Much progress on the lace socks was made and it shall be shared on Tuesday when I am back at a computer with a usb port.

I have spent a lot of time in doctor’s offices this summer and on Friday it suddenly hit me - These particular doctors are Geezer Doctors. Their patients are almost all older than I and none of them come by themselves. These folk couldn’t get here by themselves because they are old and they can’t see! They come with walkers and in wheelchairs and with daughters - so many, many daughters - with a few 60 year old sons whispering gently or silently ignoring their garrulous white haired mothers.

And they are coming long distances, too; from Charlotte Courthouse or Buckingham County or Champlain, VA. They have left their big frame Victorian houses on Washington Street in Rustburg or Lawrenceville in the wee hours of the morning and rolled down the blue highways towards Richmond, worrying if they will get well enough to stay one more year in the home they’ve lived in for half a century. They try to think about moving into the new retirement home that was built just out past the cemetery, but their brain ricochets off of that frightening unknown to spin into dithery non sequiturs or stubborn insistence that Nothing is the matter and there is No Reason to Change.

Well. That is our future. It is everyone’s future. It may not be eyes. It might be joints or it might be hearts or it might be the BigC. It’ll be your Grandma first and then your Dad and then it’ll be your turn. Like the paddles on some enormous water wheel, each of us gets her chance to rise to the top and then dip back down into the water. I felt this all the more this time because we spent the night at Dad’s old house. Though he has moved and the house has sold, the estate sale scheduled for August 4 was put off till the 18th, leaving us a place to stay overnight, albeit a sparsely furnished place. We carried along our own mattresses, the ones FavoriteCousins usually sleep on during TheReunion weekend. I would have preferred a nice hotel with room service to provide a wee bit of luxury in the midst of all the medicine, but BD (McScrooge), the man who always looks for the cheapest place to stay because, “You’re going to be asleep all that time, what do you care what the room looks like?”, the man who has been an absolute prince through this whole thing, neither grumbling, nor refusing to follow the doctor’s instructions, nor even being cranky about other things, couldn’t believe anybody would think $69 a night was a special rate and jumped at the chance to stay somewhere close, for free. I wasn’t about to give this guy a hard time, and besides, I had an urge to go back there; one more time.

I shan’t do so again.

It was too sad for me. I know the memories that get called back when I am there are 20 years old. The last really happy energetic visit I paid my parents was in 1998. After that it was a long slide down into helplessness for them and frustration for me. I’m grateful the place was there on Friday night and I am glad I made sure that we’ve moved out everything of importance, of value, be it sentimental or intrinsic. I can truly close the door on that place, that time, and move on.

But I must share the wonderful treat that came my way on Friday. Several wonderful women who live in Richmond had offered their hearts, their time and anything else I might need for Friday. I was only in the office one day last week and the dial up internet was just not cooperating at home. It was particularly reluctant to open up Hotmail so I barely had email access all week. I’d lost everybody’s cell phone numbers and on Friday I even forgot the cell phone so couldn’t have called anybody anyway. When we finally got to the hospital there was a note from J saying to give her a call. She had come by the hospital, knowing about when we thought we’d be there, and waited (forever!) just on the chance she could keep me company. She finally left, but was still close by. We could do lunch. And that’s just what we did. It was simply wonderful to catch up face to face, to giggle over family situations, to eat a delicious lunch, to show off our respective knitting projects. The time flew by.

Knitting friends are really the best! Thank you, each and every one of you, who wrote emails or posted comments here or called or just sent your love across the air. Feel good about yourself, because I promise you, each time I felt low or blue or down, I’d read and reread your words and feel comforted. You’ve all made it so much easier for me - so easy that what the heck! I feel pretty durn good. In fact. I believe I feel like picking up my knitting needles.

Thank you one and all.

posted by Bess | 6:24 AM