Received a call about 6:30 Tuesday morning from Mom (not too unusual, as she is usually up quite early and she knows we are,too). The subject matter was disturbing - Dad was awake, but not responding to her. Upon my urging, she called 911, and I hurried into town to help.
The parameds were there when I arrived, and they had determined that Dad's blood sugar was 38 (normal range is 80-120). They pumped in some IV glucose and he became responsive quickly (after some amusing answers to common questions, I might add). After a bit of time in the ER, he was released with instructions to visit his Dr. for analysis of his current med levels.
The interesting observation was the response of the other residents at the senior living facility where Mom & Dad live; with increased awareness of the Event that comes to us all, the strong concern, knowing that the time may have come for one of theirs, and it may soon come for them, as well. It was an intriguing look into the psyche of the later years, and one I'll not soon forget.
The best resolution of all is that Dad is OK, back home, and doing well. Medication has been adjusted, and he even got some new hearing aids (careful what you say around him, now). Back to normal again.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
The Morning After
Or, actually, several mornings after, since we were without power from Saturday evening until Monday evening (try getting out of bed in the AM when it is 44 degrees INSIDE the house!). Here are a few more graphic pics of the storm damage. Going to have to get my chainsaw tuned up, I believe...
We have learned from this how dependent we are on electricity for nearly everything. Not the least of which is blogging.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
War Zone
I'm sitting here in the midst of what is termed a "significant winter event". We've received a MAJOR amount of ice, and my trees are suffering because of it. I'm posting a couple of pics of the mess...firewood, anyone? Going to be busy cleaning this one up for a while...
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
Too good not to share
What follows is from my son-in-law, Jeff, who claims he is too low tech or lazy to blog. It's a great story, too good not to be posted...
By Jeff Tigchelaar
The moral of this story (let’s just get it out of the way at the beginning) is the moral of so many stories: Listen ye to your wife.
I’d just got back from chatting with the lady at the rental office after showing an apartment (which is the worst and hardest part of the job for me – the chatting with the lady in the office, that is) when Jana said, “Why don’t you go back over there with a couple pieces of cake for Sherry (the lady in the office) and Ken.” Ken is the maintenance man. He was out snowblowing. The cake was apple. With caramel frosting.
Since what Jana’d said was technically in the form of a question (I excluded the question mark above to stay true to the inflection/tone), I kept with the format and responded with an answer. “Because…because…I…the cake…so delicious…for me…cake…my…cake…” To which Jana responded, rightly and admirably although at the time to my great chagrin, “Oh just bring them some cake.”
Which I did. Sherry was famished, it turns out. (“How did you know I didn’t have any breakfast!”) And on my way back I crossed paths with a neighbor, Irina, whose husband, Vladimir, died unexpectedly last week at age 47. I hadn’t talked to her since it had happened, mostly because I didn’t know what and when would be appropriate to her situation. It was something I’d been anxious/nervous about. Apparently now was the right time. She was headed to the office to find out who to make the rent check out to. She invited Jana, Charlotte and I over for tea that night.
And all was right with the world.
Epilogue\Addendum:
“Tea,” we learned, apparently means, in some cultures, “tea and vodka.” Irina invited us to the table, upon which sat two majestic see-through bottles, right there next to the salt and pepper, acting casual. I don’t think they’d just been set out, the bottles. It’s where they stayed. Setting out three glasses along with the coffee cake and candy bars, Irina motioned toward the bottles and told us to help ourselves. “Very nice vodka,” she said. “Clean vodka.” (Which meant, of course, “very expensive vodka.”) “Is not impostor. No headache.”
So after saying a toast to Vladimir, we sat and had tea to his memory…
The Moral (guess I couldn’t resist after all):
Maybe it’s not so much Listen to your wife as Do what you know is right, what’s kind, what’s good…. (Or, Listen up – and then act – especially when what you’re being told is any or all of the above. You could be serving a higher need…)
By Jeff Tigchelaar
The moral of this story (let’s just get it out of the way at the beginning) is the moral of so many stories: Listen ye to your wife.
I’d just got back from chatting with the lady at the rental office after showing an apartment (which is the worst and hardest part of the job for me – the chatting with the lady in the office, that is) when Jana said, “Why don’t you go back over there with a couple pieces of cake for Sherry (the lady in the office) and Ken.” Ken is the maintenance man. He was out snowblowing. The cake was apple. With caramel frosting.
Since what Jana’d said was technically in the form of a question (I excluded the question mark above to stay true to the inflection/tone), I kept with the format and responded with an answer. “Because…because…I…the cake…so delicious…for me…cake…my…cake…” To which Jana responded, rightly and admirably although at the time to my great chagrin, “Oh just bring them some cake.”
Which I did. Sherry was famished, it turns out. (“How did you know I didn’t have any breakfast!”) And on my way back I crossed paths with a neighbor, Irina, whose husband, Vladimir, died unexpectedly last week at age 47. I hadn’t talked to her since it had happened, mostly because I didn’t know what and when would be appropriate to her situation. It was something I’d been anxious/nervous about. Apparently now was the right time. She was headed to the office to find out who to make the rent check out to. She invited Jana, Charlotte and I over for tea that night.
And all was right with the world.
Epilogue\Addendum:
“Tea,” we learned, apparently means, in some cultures, “tea and vodka.” Irina invited us to the table, upon which sat two majestic see-through bottles, right there next to the salt and pepper, acting casual. I don’t think they’d just been set out, the bottles. It’s where they stayed. Setting out three glasses along with the coffee cake and candy bars, Irina motioned toward the bottles and told us to help ourselves. “Very nice vodka,” she said. “Clean vodka.” (Which meant, of course, “very expensive vodka.”) “Is not impostor. No headache.”
So after saying a toast to Vladimir, we sat and had tea to his memory…
The Moral (guess I couldn’t resist after all):
Maybe it’s not so much Listen to your wife as Do what you know is right, what’s kind, what’s good…. (Or, Listen up – and then act – especially when what you’re being told is any or all of the above. You could be serving a higher need…)
Saturday, February 3, 2007
Brrr.
It is cold. REALLY cold. -3 as I type this, at my desk, enjoying a cup of coffee.
The nice thing about this is that it is temporary - temps like this don't last, and in a short month (The best thing about February) it will be transitioning into spring.
I'm thankful for furnaces, LP gas, and portable space heaters.
Fireplaces, too.
Thank goodness for global warming, or it would be -4.
The nice thing about this is that it is temporary - temps like this don't last, and in a short month (The best thing about February) it will be transitioning into spring.
I'm thankful for furnaces, LP gas, and portable space heaters.
Fireplaces, too.
Thank goodness for global warming, or it would be -4.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)