I can scare you too.

Are you the one taking the parent to the hospital for some outpatient care? I was, after years of attending to this parent with me, as power of attorney for her medical affairs, we arrived at the out patient reception at the direction of the primary physician. But, I could have been at the auto dealership for a car repair and they would have been nicer, more organized and a touch more compassionate.
The local hospital was recently renamed and as I could now see the effects of 'under new management'. We quickly learned that upon inquiry we were lower than low on the human being scale. The medical orders were not present. And how dare we not have the MD’s telephone number to call up for these items. 'Oh yes, we heard you were coming for this procedure, but Your Doctor never sent the paperwork. So what are you doing here - kind of treatment. How stupid could we be? How much more intrusive and demanding could we be, since we were present but not complete - how dare we?
So what do we do now? Sign papers, no. And it was such a struggle for them to find the telephone number for the physician. And it was such a trouble that, ‘You can’t wait here, you need to go back there, down that long hallway. Wait there. Now. Because this is all too much work for us to do.”
Old people don't move that fast, turning around alone, is six separate and slow movements, so we're going...
“We’ll just come back tomorrow, no, no I don’t want to trouble your staff,” and was heading for the exit door to the car.
Then a patient advocate arrived, and stroked us out during the long hallway walk back to the reception area. Now, the papers were ready to be signed as the receptionist placed an identity band on the parent's wrist. By the time I looked around for the parent, she’s rolling back down the hallway alone.
We arrive back at outpatient services where we were just sent away from. Directed by nurse this time, back to a room, and since we didn’t have paperwork, the RN was exasperated, that she had another task, she departed annoyed. Only to return with the same papers I had just signed, blank, taxing the sick and confused parent with signing documents she could not read nor were verbally explained to her. Initial here, sign there and date it. The parent could barely hold the signing ink pen, so that was too slow for the RN.
Even the first ID wrist band was removed, and she began to replace it, when the parent asked a question, which was just one thing too much for the RN who replaced the next, second ID wrist band and departed without a word and hostile to find another RN. I was sorry I noticed that the allergy section of the wrist band was blank, and the parent-patient did have a couple of drug allergies that you should know about, can I tell you?
The outpatient area was completely empty. Maybe one other patient, and one outpatient receptionist – the one who cycled us out the first time. The parent was pretty nervous with all impatience delivered and ready to make the effort to leave. The parent had brought her own book, lunch and other entertainment and was simply scared at the hospital management of her case.
“Who knows if they know what they doing for the rest of the day? And they just might kill me,: the parent verbally rationalized to me about the experience so far. “Since now they are angry that I’m here. Maybe we should go?”
Then the lab technician arrived, forthcoming and confident to take a blood sample, and a new RN arrived, who looked familiar to the parent and myself. Suddenly the anxiety left, and the entire tone of business changed. The new RN explained easily what was going to happen, how long it would take, and then the next step.
Whew! Nothing like being scared by the person and institution that suppose to help you! Next time, like the airlines, the auto repair shop, we’ll call and confirm before arrival that all the parts are present for the work to get done.
I still stopped in to visit the Administrative Offices, and let them know before I left the parent there. I wouldn’t give them my parent’s name – jokingly, “I still don’t want you to kill her.”

Don't Loose That Thought

Heck, it comes up in my house every Holiday season, the history of the holiday. It’s the dreaded memory passed on to each generation. Be it July 4th, Labor Day, Memorial Day there’s always a tradition to behold. And since I am care giving another – alone - by myself, it’s a lot.
The stories get expanded, it’s like a one snapshot memory with a movie loop. Repeated, so it’s not forgotten what tid-bits happened before I was born. Now, with more than fifty years of living under my belt, it’s not really going to shape my life with the lessons expressed in the tale.
Why do I take it? Proximity. My siblings seem to think it’s okay to ignore each holiday with a phone call. Those calls last only long enough to remain in the moment, and what they don’t understand and won’t give up their lives to know their mom with dad’s old stories.
I videoed my mother talking over the slide projector, flipping through the ages and phases of their lives, wondering if anyone cared about my own life. Later, I converted that video tape to DVD, and made ten copies. One for each of the second, third and fourth generations was mailed out each of them.
Since they couldn't show up for their share of the thoughts and spoken words, I thought they could view them at their lesisure. Since they couldn't remember - I didn't want them to loose that thought.