Lovey doesn't like taking her meds, but the liquid goes down quickly enough, and she's allowing me to give it to her. That made getting out of the house easier than it might have been, this morning. On my way to the hospital, I did not kill any woodland creatures (and I did not do that three times). I did not get hit by the car coming over the line . . . because its driver awoke! o.O I did not get hit by the huge tire that came bouncing into my lane across three lanes of traffic, either.
I did, however, select a coffee cup with a dribbling hole in it, which necessitated a stop at a gas station to clean my white shirt. *cries* I try to be dressy for the hospital.
My favorite security guard was on desk duty when I arrived. We hugged. He offered me food. I offered to get him coffee (and left him two cookies for later). This is what we do. I saw the patient advocate. We waved to each other (he seemed relieved to find that I had no business with him :P). Two nurses and one phlebotomist I know quite well and I caught up on the elevator; they relieved me of cookies. The nursing tech who was so nice yesterday was thrilled to see the cookies; she knew they were for her (and that she had to share). She got me caught up about Mom, didn't say boo about my being there well before visiting hours, and then went off for shift change. I shared cookies with everyone I saw; I made four dozen: half peanut butter and half crispy chocolate chai, which are essentially skinny shortbread cookies with cocoa powder and chai spices in them. I visited Mom's elderly male neighbor, with whom I chatted the other day (he's had no visitors and is quite lonely; we discussed the Olympics over cookies, and he seemed set for the day when I left). When I got to Mom's room, I only had two cookies left, which I gave to her roommate because Mom only had eyes for the dark chocolate raspberry truffles she knew I had.
I spent a lot of time tidying up Mom, her bedding (I got a fresh set and did it myself), and her room; I know that they get busy, but it drives me nuts to see trash on the bed, side table, and floor—and no matter what Mom says, she needs to have a wash every day. The next-shift nurse seemed quite pleased, especially because she'd gotten one of the cookies, too. *snorts* And then I spent three hours being as cheerfully entertaining as possible; Mom was actually alert, and feeling a bit crabby and low, but our visit seemed to raise her spirits (until the person involved in arranging post-hospital nursing care came around to "help" Mom select a nursing facility at which to recuperate. Mom is never going to one of those places again, ever. My brother and I agree. We had to spring her from the last place, and it really was just a place to dump people until they died. Never again! And so Mom's told the nurse repeatedly—I had to take the lady outside before Mom became seriously testy and explain to her that Mom wasn't dotty and did mean it when she said she'd be going straight home, and then I arranged for the appropriate PT and personal care aids to come 'round).
All that done, I went to the store, saved a marriage (a man was being chewed out by his wife on the phone over his inability "to read simple instructions!"; I helped him with her list, and suggested he buy some sunflowers *g*), stopped a woman more interested in her mobile convo from slamming her cart into an elderly gentleman with a walker, removed a younger brother from the egg case and alerted his older sister to the presence of an alert adult while making sure that the toddler got safely back to his mother, explained self-rising flour to a teen who apparently couldn't read for all the whining about having to help that she was doing (*rolls eyes*), helped a short lady with a bottle of lemon juice on a high shelf, and eventually got everything I needed—which apparently included a cube of very sharp, lovely cheese. Now I've got eight expensive ounces of aged Cheddar in my fridge next to the reasonably priced Cheddar that was already there, but there are worse things that I could have bought on impulse!
Oh, I also witnessed, with a woman about my age and a teenage boy, the world-ending break up of the pizza guy, who was wearing an ear piece and trying not to cry while his girlfriend/boyfriend gave him the "it's not you" speech. Kudos to the kid, though—his customer service was amazing, but his lip just never stopped trembling. I bought a slice just to be able to smile at him in a friendly way (and warn him that his manager was coming).
And then I drove home, almost ran out of gas, and then turned in to the Sheetz right next to a man helping his wife deliver their daughter! OMG, the inward panic! And then a lady ran out of the Sheetz to say that she'd called the paramedics, and that everything would be fine—but by then, the father had already gotten his baby girl wrapped up in his tee shirt. Three minutes earlier, I might have been helping, but thank goodness, I arrived just after the need. The baby was screaming her head off and looked pink, and the ambulance arrived almost immediately after the woman said she'd called, so, yay new baby! And double yay, no having to help! (I would have, but . . . .)
Pulling out of the station, a stag leapt across the road just ahead of my car. My heart stopped. He was big. And he's still big, thank God.
I walked in to find Albus ripping apart a bag of chips he'd liberated from the pantry, apparently to go with the Epic venison bar he'd earlier liberated—for dog and stomach! *rolls eyes* Shog and I threw the groceries in the fridge, went to the dog park (where Albus met a young, rambunctious, sweetie-pie of a Pit), and then stopped by the creek for a wade on our way home.
It then struck me all of a heap that I was exhausted. Oh, really? *snorts* The three-hours of cheerfulness is what did it, I think; having to keep someone entertained is taxing in a hospital, but I really do think that Mom felt better when I left. *pleased*
I think I'll attend to poll-post-related discussion tomorrow; I really need a bath and my bed. *smooches flist*