What’s your idea of adventure?

 

Kudos to Jean Walbridge for shepherding me yesterday. First we went to my appointment with the hand surgeon. Because I’d never been there before, we took the transport chair, and it was a good thing. We whipped into the first open handicapped spot and proceeded to the doors only to find we were at the locked service entrance and had to go halfway around the large square building to get to the main entrance with its fancy porte cochere. Why aren’t entrances marked more plainly or, better yet, in the front of the building where they belong?

Then we found ourselves in an enormous medical office and we, of course, chose the exact wrong end of the waiting room. When they called us, we had to travel the whole long length. If I’d been using the walker, it would have taken me forever, and I’d arrived winded. So bless Jean for pushing me. She wasn’t used to it and commented that she seemed to be trying to amputate my feet. At one point I was sort of wedged under a desk and wondered how I’d get out of there.

From the doctor’s office we went to Trader Joe’s which has quite possibly the world’s worst parking lot in town—too small, too crowded, two-way traffic when there isn’t room. Not good for an impatient person like myself. If Jean had been alone, there were any number of spots she could have whipped into, but we had to wait—and wait we did—for a handicapped with space on the passenger side for the motorized cart for handicapped shoppers. At long last we got one. Jean went into the store to ask someone on staff to drive the cart out for me—no way she was going to try that herself.

Shopping was smooth except when Jean said, “You’re on your own,” I had to point out that I couldn’t reach most of the things I wanted. So we shopped in tandem. I did not hit any customers nor take down any displays, but I sure was nervous in the wine section. Trader Joe’s is like Central Market in that you can’t do all your shopping there—not toilet paper, etc.—but it’s great for unusual items. And I had a list, from ice cream cones to white chicken chili (which I didn’t find).

Jean went to a checkout station right by the exit, which was great because I could just wheel straight out. A couple of times before I had nearly come to grief trying to turn a tight corner from the checkout stand to the door.

At last we were in the car, headed home, having safely handed the cart over to a staff member. Jean sighed and said, “I’ve had quite an adventure. Thank you.” My first thought was maybe her life lacks adventure, despite the fact that I know she’s busy, but my better thought was, “Wow! If it’s that much of an adventure, it much be that much trouble, and I am really really grateful to her for having spent her morning with me, pushing my wheelchair, hauling my mobility devices in and out of the car, reaching for groceries for me. I am so blessed with friends and so grateful.

Today was a catch-up day and therefore I have nothing much to post about, unless I lapse into one of my rants about the state of our country. So I’ll just quit while I’m sort of ahead. I did get a lot done today, and I’m going to sleep early because I have to be up way too early for a dental appointment.

I will say, it’s a bit of a thrill to find an email in my box from Martin Sheen that begins, “Hi, Judy.” Yes, I know it’s computer generated, but I can still hardly resist replying to say, “Hi, Martin. Thanks for writing.”

Night, y’all.

Adventure on a wasted day

At the doctor's office

Tonight sitting on the patio with a glass of wine, I decided I could either consider this day an adventure or a wasted day. In terms of the work projects on my desk, the day was a total loss. I got not one thing done. I did spend a lot of time on Facebook, because it kept me occupied while waiting and gnashing my teeth.

Long story short I have been worrying with a skin infection on my leg. Yesterday, Jordan pointed out it was badly swollen, and the doctors in my family decreed it was time to see my primary care physician. I am fortunate that he is in a network, so I can communicate directly with him. So last night, I sent him an email detailing the problem, along with pictures of the leg.

No response. I couldn’t concentrate on work this morning, while I was hoping he would email any minute. Finally, about ten-thirty I called the office only to be told he does not see patients on Fridays. Stymied. And more waiting, looking up emergency care clinics—found a mobile one, which sounded great because they would come to me. But turns out they don’t treat patients over seventy-five, so that ruled that one out. While Jordan and I were trying to figure out what to do next, I got a most welcome email from my doctor. Even on Friday, he wanted to see me and my leg. I wrote back with gratitude and asked what time.

No answer. More waiting and wondering and gnashing my teeth. I didn’t want to miss him and go the whole long weekend worrying about my leg. I could see on the Web site that no one had looked at my last email, so at one, when they opened after lunch, I called. Complete confusion was followed by a long time on hold, but finally someone came on and said they would call the doctor and call me back. I anticipated another long wait, but they called right back and asked if I could be there at three. Of course I could.

The doctor did an exam, an office ultrasound, and offered some encouraging words, but he said he wanted to send me for a more extensive procedure at an imaging office. Another long wait ensued while they made arrangements, but then we got word I had a five o’clock appointment at an office in far southwest Fort Worth.

I had forgotten how windy that part of Fort Worth can be—it almost literally knocked me off my feet. Jordan had on a dress, and the wind threatened her modesty. She had a frustrating time trying to get my walker out of the back seat—all the while raining curses on my car because it’s so small and the new walker is a bit bulky.

The actual sonogram was fine—a bit uncomfortable but nothing to worry about, and by a little after five-thirty we were on our way home. The tech said my doctor will get a report tonight, but the general impression I get is that no one thinks it’s a blood clot. What it is, is more complicated—and I don’t know for sure—but details don’t belong here. Enough to say that I feel fine and am not in pain. We will see.

This was my third trip off my own property since March 12, a date firmly fixed in my mind. I couldn’t help saying, “Oh, look, there’s a whole wide world out here.” As we drove familiar roads, I saw new buildings and other things I’d never noticed before. I found it a bit tiring to be out in the world, and I longed for the moment I would be home again in my cocoon. I either have to get out more or resign myself to being a recluse—which isn’t all bad.

I was grateful to note that everywhere we went, everyone was masked and observing social distance. I thought maybe that was because we were in the health care system, but a friend wrote today that two days ago she went to the grocery and hardly anyone was masked; today she sat in the car while her husband ran an errand in Walgreen’s, and she said everyone was masked. A wonderful change. We may lick this thing yet. Of  course, Governor Abbott should have issued a statewide directive a week ago.

Stay safe and well, everyone.