Usual recovery from that surgery was five to seven days My daily phone calls told me that things were not going according to plan.
Friday afternoon I drove back to Portland.
Gas at Les Lammers, Hood River, then check into the Mallory Hotel where a "truck drivers" room cost $10.50 per night.
Since gas was almost unobtainable I had the road mostly to myself but weirdly the company owned Shell Station around the corner from the hotel not only allowed me to fill my tank but offered a free car wash as well.
Just to set the scene. When Uncle Dave returned from California, he arrived in one town with his gas gauge hitting the empty bar he was told to come back tomorrow no license plates ending in even number are served today.
The doctors were reluctant to release their patient but the patient claimed that recovery would be much faster at home and demanded to be released. The release was granted and off we went.
By the time we stopped at a restaurant in Hood River, Jean was complaining of extreme pain in her neck. I offered to take her back to Good Sam but she said no so we continued to Walla Walla
where she checked into the old St. Mary Hospital.
Bob Jameison was an excellent diagnostician but he came up with some far out theories on Jean.
At one point she told him she "hurt so bad she could jump out the window." He put her on suicide watch.
She spent most of the day lying face down. The diagnosis was "empty nest syndrome!".
When she did not eat her meals, she was told she was a bad girl and the tray taken away.
I called the hospital and spoke to the sister in charge. She made a comment about it wasn't fair to waste the food. I am afraid I was not very diplomatic. I told her if they didn't feed her I would bring food from the Pastime Cafe and feed her myself.
That evening when I arrived at the hospital, an aid was spooning food into her mouth.
A spinal tap had been attempted earlier but was inconclusive.
I have a mental lapse now on the name of the physiatrist at the hospital who was a friend of Jim Mclellen. Anyway, he did another spinal tap after my tirade and the pressure was off the chart so back to Portland by ambulance.
Jean's Aunt Altha had come to visit her sick niece and ended up as baby sitter to four children.
Her comment to Dr. Schaefer drew a chuckle when she intoned into the phone. "I have become a mother at age 59 and I have a baby running a fever. What do I do?".
Friday afternoon I drove back to Portland.
Gas at Les Lammers, Hood River, then check into the Mallory Hotel where a "truck drivers" room cost $10.50 per night.
Since gas was almost unobtainable I had the road mostly to myself but weirdly the company owned Shell Station around the corner from the hotel not only allowed me to fill my tank but offered a free car wash as well.
Just to set the scene. When Uncle Dave returned from California, he arrived in one town with his gas gauge hitting the empty bar he was told to come back tomorrow no license plates ending in even number are served today.
The doctors were reluctant to release their patient but the patient claimed that recovery would be much faster at home and demanded to be released. The release was granted and off we went.
By the time we stopped at a restaurant in Hood River, Jean was complaining of extreme pain in her neck. I offered to take her back to Good Sam but she said no so we continued to Walla Walla
where she checked into the old St. Mary Hospital.
Bob Jameison was an excellent diagnostician but he came up with some far out theories on Jean.
At one point she told him she "hurt so bad she could jump out the window." He put her on suicide watch.
She spent most of the day lying face down. The diagnosis was "empty nest syndrome!".
When she did not eat her meals, she was told she was a bad girl and the tray taken away.
I called the hospital and spoke to the sister in charge. She made a comment about it wasn't fair to waste the food. I am afraid I was not very diplomatic. I told her if they didn't feed her I would bring food from the Pastime Cafe and feed her myself.
That evening when I arrived at the hospital, an aid was spooning food into her mouth.
A spinal tap had been attempted earlier but was inconclusive.
I have a mental lapse now on the name of the physiatrist at the hospital who was a friend of Jim Mclellen. Anyway, he did another spinal tap after my tirade and the pressure was off the chart so back to Portland by ambulance.
Jean's Aunt Altha had come to visit her sick niece and ended up as baby sitter to four children.
Her comment to Dr. Schaefer drew a chuckle when she intoned into the phone. "I have become a mother at age 59 and I have a baby running a fever. What do I do?".
posted by Alan L. Barer at 8:53 PM
1 Comments:
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