Today’s a monthly heart-doctor visit.
In Our Elder’s World, this means kind of a full day.
One of us drives to the suburbs, retrieves Elder, with his latest list of meds, and his cane, and some water and some Depends and some snacks in case we run late. It’s like having a toddler.
Mostly this means leaving the house at noon, picking him up at one, getting to hospital by two, navigating parking and entrance and steps, a few hours of tests and filling out forms, and repeating what the doctor says several times, and taking notes, and getting more lab slips, helping him dress, driving him home during rush-hour, making dinner, and going back to our home in the city. Total time: 8 hours.
He was supposed to get a scheduled blood test before this appointment, but he was at another appointment and asked that doctor to do the test and send it in. We’re not sure that worked, but we’re stuck with it.
We don’t begrudge one bit this task. Really. It’s just that it TAKES. SO. LONG. So we marked out this day for this and packed up a laptop in case there’s downtime to get some work done.
The scary part is the doctor wants him to get a new pacemaker … and the last time he went into the hospital, he was there for three weeks. So the pacemaker has become a stand-in for all sorts of fears and complications and uncertainties. We’ve been told if he doesn’t do it, it’s Game Over. That doesn’t feel so good. And we’re not sure he totally understands. Wish us luck.