Tag Archives: ER

Goodbye 2025!!

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2025 was the worst year of my life. Worse than when my mom passed away. Worse than when my Granny passed away. Worse than when I made the decision to leave my ex. Worse than when my daughter found herself mixed up with the wrong man, drugs, and ended up in court, and in jail for 2 weeks. This year has been one I’d like to erase from history. 

In July, Dad fell outside, and I had to call 911 for assistance in getting him off the ground. That didn’t go as planned. The ambulance took over an hour to arrive, and during that hour, in the hottest part of the day, my dad had a heat stroke. Three of our volunteer firefighters showed up to help me keep Dad cool with wet towels. When the ambulance finally came, I thought I was going to have a heat stroke, too. It was 90-something that day! Upon arrival to the hospital, I could barely breathe. I thought we were going to lose Dad. The grief was all-consuming, and if it weren’t for my sisters, brother-in-law, “other daughter,” granddaughter, and grandson, I’d have been a much worse mess than I was. They were there for me. They comforted me when I slipped into deeper depression and when all I could do was cry. 

Dad recovered from that horrific incident. My son and his wife helped. My sister stayed to help, too. She was here for over 2 months. Dad got stronger and stronger, and I was finally able to care for him on my own. During that recovery time, there was some family drama that I won’t go into here, but because of that drama, things will never be the same with certain family members, and they will never get the same version of me as before. 

In October, my stubborn Dad decided he needed to do a chore outside. It was something that Contractor #2 could have done, but Dad wanted to do it. Well, I wasn’t going to let him go out and do it without my help. In the process of doing this chore, Dad fell and not just onto the ground. He fell into the barbed wire fence and ripped his forearm open. When I say ripped, I mean ripped big time! Dad is on a blood thinner, so this was a problem. I called 911 because I couldn’t stop the bleeding, no matter what I did. The ambulance arrived in 25 minutes, much improved from the last time. He ended up with stitches that night. He healed nicely, and I told him flat out, “No more outside chores for you!” 

In December, Dad started feeling poorly. He was weak and short of breath. He was panting and struggling to walk. I kept telling him that he needed to go to the doctor. He said he knew, but he kept putting it off. He didn’t want to go. After several days, he decided he’d better do something. He knew he wouldn’t be able to walk to the ER entrance, even if I pulled up front. He said, “You’d better call 911.” I did just that, and 30 minutes later, the ambulance pulled up. Before the ambulance came, our volunteer firefighters came to help again. They immediately checked his pulse rate and oxygen level and gave him oxygen while we waited for the ambulance. Poor Dad had been suffering from a case of pneumonia! It wasn’t full-blown pneumonia, but it could have been had he not gone to the hospital! He was on O2 the entire time. He was in the hospital for 9 days and came home the day after Christmas with home O2 equipment. We skipped Christmas altogether. 

It’s been difficult taking care of him by myself. My pain level has skyrocketed, and my mobility issues are worse than ever before. Since they didn’t walk Dad in the hospital, he became unable to do anything unassisted. So, I have been helping him with everything. A few days ago, I told him he has to start walking a little at a time so he can get stronger. He’s been doing that, and I think within a week or so, I may not have to work as hard to take care of him. He’ll be a little more independent, and I’ll still be right here to help. 

So, there’s 2025. The first 6 months weren’t too bad, but July brought us pain and uncertainty. I’m happy that I still have Dad here with me to bring in the New Year. He will be 89 in February. I hope to have many more years with him, but I accept the fact that my time with him may be coming to an end. He has been my best friend for so many years. He helped me raise my children when their father couldn’t be bothered. We designed and started building our new house together, the house we have yet to move into. I hope Dad sees the house finished and can actually live in it and be proud of what he has done. 

I know I’m rambling, so I’ll finish this post with my best wishes to you and yours in the New Year! May we all have a great year!

Until next time,

The Fractured Hand

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I was on my computer last Friday afternoon, trying to get some work done. I was a day behind due to the fact that I had to take my daughter to her Drs. appointment on Thursday. Both of the kids (adult kids, that is) were home that day. My son was suppose to work that evening so he was killing some time. I think he watched a movie and played some video games. You know, typical young male activities.

I heard a commotion in the living room and I was due for a break anyway, so I decided to go see what all the ruckus was about. My son was laughing his ass off! My daughter was cracking up, too.

I asked, “What’s going on?”

C.F. says to me calmly, “You don’t want to know.”

I asked, “What did you do?”

He replies, “You don’t want to know.”

I asked, “Did you hurt yourself?” (Remembering the dirt bike incident here and how scared I was that something may have happened to him.)

He held his right hand up and there it was. He broke his freakin’ hand. Immediately my hands went up to my face in shock…. fear…. worry…. well, I don’t know what it was.

I said, “I have to take you to the hospital.”

He agrees, “YES, you do!” All the while laughing like a nutcase.

Apparently, he knocked down a little shelf in his room. This shelf holds a few of his model cars that he worked so hard on. The shelf fell, and everything on it hit the floor. C.F. was mad that this happened and then he punched the wall! He has punched the wall before and left a hole. No injury to himself, thank goodness. This time, there were 2 little knuckle marks on the wall but no hole. He hit the stud this time. I think he may have learned a lesson.

I took him to the ER at the hospital I thought was the best choice. It was closest for one thing, but I didn’t like the other choice. The hospital I chose was in Arkansas, not too far from where we live in Missouri. Now my son has Missouri Medicaid and I always assumed this hospital accepted Medicaid. Turns out the hospital itself DOES accept Medicaid but the Drs. do not accept Missouri Medicaid, specifically.

Great. Now C.F. will get a bill from every freakin’ Dr. that even looked at him cross-eyed that day.

Well, a lot of good it did for me to take him to the emergency room. They looked him over, x-rayed and splinted his hand, wrapped it up and put it in a sling. They gave him a referral to see an orthopedic surgeon and a script for vicoden and sent us on our way.

This being Friday, I couldn’t contact the surgeon until Monday morning.

On Monday morning I called the surgeon’s office.

“Hello. Dr. Moore’s office. Can I help you?” She sounded very nice.”

“Yes,” I said. “Does Dr. Moore accept Missouri Medicaid?”

She said, “No, I’m sorry he doesn’t.”

I explained the situation to her. I asked if I needed a referral to see an orthopedic surgeon.

She said, “Oh, No Ma’am. The only reason Dr. Moore was referred is because he was the surgeon on call that night.”

When I got off the phone, I got to thinking. If he was on call that night then why didn’t they call him to look at C.F.’s hand? It would have saved us a lot of grief.

I called a few other surgeons in Missouri — I was told I needed a referral BUT they didn’t have any openings at all for a couple weeks. One said none until next month. So, I figured I’d take C.F. to a different Dr. and get a new referral. I thought that having the Dr. make the calls we would get an appointment much sooner.

Boy! Was I wrong! It has been 6 days since C.F. fractured his hand and we are still waiting for an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon! It’s a good thing he’s not in a lot of pain! I don’t know what to do at this point. I have been calling the Dr’s. office, consistently since Tuesday morning trying to light a fire under them. They say they’re still working on it. What do I have to do to get my child medical attention? Since it has been this long, the bone has probably started to heal which means it will have to be rebroken in order to set it correctly.

I understand the surgeons are probably booked up but don’t they leave emergency spots open for emergencies?? Of course, this is hardly an emergency but he does need medical attention!

C.F. can’t do anything. He is bored to death. He can’t go to work. He can’t play his guitar, which is his life, he can’t play video games or even use the computer comfortably.

After all is said and done….if it ever gets done that is………I think he may have learned a lesson.