Bread

Stopped by to visit Dad before heading back out to the PB for our Sunday morning movie ride (today a not-so-brief Blade Runner 2049), and was immediately ambushed by my visiting sister and local brother.

RG, as you will recall went to the ER on Friday because his left knee had swollen to the size of a grapefruit, causing severe pain. My assessment being that transport via my truck, and hence saving the expense of a ride in the Red Cadillac, was not possible due to the pain that even a touch produced. At one point I was on hold with his health care provider on TWO phones and after twenty minutes I decided to end one and dial 911. Mo dough out de do.

I spend the next six hours trying my best to negotiate an ER diagnosis, manage his pain and figure a way to simply get through the weekend without further incident or accident.

I arranged communications with the hospital staff, left three numbers and sped off towards the Barn, about 40 miles away. En route I alerted the parties as to their pick-up and return transport responsibilities and opened the Barn for business one minute late.

He was ready for release at 9 with the diagnosis of gouty arthritis. I should have gone down myself instead of relying on the two ladies, but, in self defense, I was bushed and sound asleep when they called with the update.

Saturday and today were exercises in chaos management. My sister was upset that I had let things get this far and my brother was calling me out for gross negligence. As I told then both once emotional order was restored, my default tactic is one of self defense and then to launch a counter offensive. Block and jab. Duck and hammer.

This is, I am sure,  something thousands of capable people struggle with every day. Care for the aged, managing Mom or Dad's medications, nutrition, physical therapy, hospital visits, finances, etc, etc, is a full time job, most times I will wager, done at the expenses of a family member who more likely than not, is already juggling a full plate of their own.

I know I am.

So I run between my cabin, Dad's apartment, my house/dog sitting responsibilities, the Barn, the store and gas station, trying to make sense of it all, or, failing that, make it as efficient and effective as I am able.

Leaving me constantly with one nagging question/comment. Is there a better way to accomplish all this without owning all the bread in the bakery department? Is, as seems the case, health care and compassionate end of life management something for the elite class only?

And if so, why?