Alex, the VA, and Me

Blogging isn’t easy with a furball using the keyboard as a pillow and a paw rest!

I must be really getting old when I start thinking of a trip to a medical clinic as an adventure! Therefore, I shall attempt to tell you are bout yesterday’s trip to the Veterans’ Administration Hospital is as unswervingly as I can:

• I have been attempting to obtain this appointment to be assessed for a wheelchair for several months.
• I received the appointment for 8:45 AM yesterday in a letter from the VA about a week ago.
• As you may remember, I have pulled a muscle in my right thigh and am unable to lift my right leg more than a couple of inches from the floor making it impossible dangerous for me to drive.
• I needed transportation to the appointment: neither of my sons was available; my pastor and friend, Doug, was attending a clergy meeting; the company for whom Tasha works said she that she wasn’t permitted to transport me anywhere; the VA transportation unit is booked up through next November (!?); the only reasonably priced medical transportation service I located was not available at the time of my appointment.
• By Wednesday afternoon, I had given up and telephoned the number of the physical therapy clinic provided by VA and, after listening to one robot voice transfer me to another robot voice to another robot voice left a message requesting whatever human was around to telephone me so I could reschedule the appointment.
• Shortly thereafter, Tasha’s employer telephoned me and said that their policy had changed: Tasha could drive me if I was willing to pay her mileage because the VA, who is paying for Tasha’s services, refuses to pay mileage.
• Of course I agreed and again telephoned the VA physical therapy clinic and, after listening to one robot voice transfer me to another robot voice to another robot voice left a message stating that I would be able to keep the appointment at 8:45 Thursday morning.
• Jump forward to Thursday morning: Tasha was supposed to arrive at 8:00 AM to transport me to the clinic; when she hadn’t arrived by 8:15, I was concerned because I know how slow I move about.
• At 8:30 Tasha’s company telephone and said—as if I hadn’t already figured it out—that Tasha was “running late.”
• Concerned because of the notice on the VA appointment letter stated that I must be on time for the appointment, I again telephoned VA and, after listening to one robot voice transfer me to another robot voice to another robot voice left a message that I was running late.
• Tasha arrived just as I hung up from the call and, as I was getting my portable oxygen tank on, a real human being telephoned from the VA and told me that if I couldn’t make my scheduled time the appointment would have to be rescheduled.
• Since the appointment was at 8:45 AM and the time at the moment was 8:40 AM, I had the appointment rescheduled to the next available date, February 27^th.
• Just as I was getting out of my coat and portable oxygen tank, my telephone rang; it was the VA physical therapy clinic and I was told that, if I could make it there at 10:00 AM, they could still see me today.
• I said, “I’ll be there!”

Enough of these bullets! I’ll tell the rest of the story without them.

Getting me to Tasha’s car wasn’t easy because there is still snow and especially ice from the top of my front steps all the way to the street. Had I not remembered the hiking stick I bought when I was stationed in Germany, I would not have made it:

(I really must remember to photograph all of my sticks and share them with you as I promised a long time ago!)

 

Tasha dropped me off at the main entrance of the VA Hospital and then drove off to find a parking space. By the time I walked into the hospital, I was exhausted and sat down at a table in the snack room where I could see the front door. It took Tasha half an hour to find a parking space; because it was almost 10:00 AM, I had begun walking toward the elevators when Tasha arrived. I asked her to get me one of the loaner wheelchairs. She returned without one and told me that the room had used to have the wheelchairs was now filled with file cabinets and the woman in the room said that she had no idea where the wheelchairs are now stored.

So, I very slowly hobbled  and wheezed to the elevator and off the elevator and hobbled even more slowly down the hallway to clinic 240A and down another hallway to where I told a woman behind a window my name and the last four digits of my social security account number and she told me to go back down the same hallway to the small waiting room and wait. So I did.

I waited for 45 bloody minutes before someone came for me! So much for my not being late!

Now here’s the wonderful part! I have been approved for a wheelchair that is my size and strong enough that my bulk won’t break the thing. It has a special reinforced back so that if I plop down in it I won’t break it. And the arm rests can be retracted so that I can get close to my desk to blog and to my table to eat. And it has special handles on the wheel brakes so that I won’t have to bend down to lock and unlock the wheels. And I got to select the color of the chair and the color and fabric of the seat and back! The chair will be delivered to me in about three to four weeks.

Wow! It was sure worth all I went through to get to the clinic yesterday!

 

 

February After Groundhog Day

The Day the Music Died, 3 February 1959 

A long, long time ago...
I can still remember
How that music used to make me smile.
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And, maybe, they’d be happy for a while.

But February made me shiver
With every paper I’d deliver.
Bad news on the doorstep;
I couldn’t take one more step.

I can’t remember if I cried
When I read about his widowed bride,
But something touched me deep inside
The day the music died.

 Check out Trav’s post: Gone much too soon, 50 years ago

Mr. Groundhog has done his thing and the result, no matter how you read it, is that Spring is on its way. May the Natural Cycles of the Earth be praised! because I am weary of the cold, snow, ice, dark sky and housebound cat!

But there is much more to February than nasty winter weather and the legend of the hog that lives beneath ground. There are:

BIRTHDAYS

Two of our grandest Presidents of these here United States were born in February: 

Abraham Lincoln: February 12, 1809

George Washington: February 22, 1732 

I know of two notable bloggers born in February (if you know of others, please let me know):

The delightfully inquisitive Debra Pasquella of Let Me Go On and On: February 4^th

The singular MATT-MAN of Bagwine Ruminations: February 7^th

And, of course, there is (drum roll):

ME, Sometimes Saintly Nick of Nick’s Bytes: February 14^th

I have two ex-relatives and an ex-friend also born in February. In light of the wise adage,  If you can’t say anything good about someone then say nothing at all, I’ll say no more about them.

BLACK HISTORY MONTH

Or, perhaps it need no longer be Black History Month. Rochelle Riley, Free Press Columnist, has a very interesting proposal for this February. She writes, in part:

I propose that, from this day forward, we stop telling the tale of two Americas and instead document and celebrate the full and storied, multicultural and multidimensional story that is America in all of its colors, geographies and passions, in all of its ups, downs and exhortations…

I propose that this February, we become not an America of black or white or Hispanic or Asian but an America of black and white and Hispanic and Asian, an America where each of those heritages is a mandatory part of school curriculums…

Today, in honor of black history, which is American history, I propose that Black History Month be no more.

I strongly recommend that we all read Ms. Riley’s proposals in her column entitled Now's the time to end Black History Month and consider, as she suggests, that this Black History Month, 139 years after Congress granted black men the right to vote, 89 years after Congress granted women the right to vote, we can vote to no longer be a fragmented nation.

AND, OF COURSE, THERE IS ...

As one who was born on Valentine’s Day—I shall speak in a later post about the joys and pains of being born on the day that, supposedly, Bishop Valentine was decapitated—the day of flowers, candy, cards, etc. centered on love is central to my thoughts during the month of February. As you may suspect from my aside in the previous sentence, my thoughts on Saint Valentine’s Day ain’t always joyful thoughts. 

So, that’s my introduction to the month of February, 2009. I shall touch on those themes as the shortest month of the year continues.

For now, your mission—if you agree to accept it—is to wish Deb a happy birthday tomorrow and Matt-Man a happy birthday next Saturday.

Peace, ya’ll!

Super Sunday Stuff

Super February (my birth month)

And I've already received my first birthday card!

Super Good News

My mother’s electricity was restored at about 6:00 PM Saturday!

Super Sunday Weather Forecast

The high for today in Louisville is supposed to be about…

Good-bye ice!

Super Bowl Fans

I encountered a survey yesterday that asked the question Who will win the 2009 Super Bowl? After I entered my answer, I was shown the results of the survery:

I noticed something interesting: for the most part, fans in states west of the Mississippi River chose Arizona and states east of the Mississippi River chose Pittsburgh. Does this mean that, if there is another civil war in the United States, it won’t be between North and South but between East and West? I really need to consider this more deeply.

Super Scare

I was reading a book this morning when I heard a siren in the distance. As it got louder, I realized that whatever the emergency vehicle was, it was coming down my (still) snow covered street. The scare hit me when the sound of the siren didn’t recede, but simply stopped.

So I grabbed my cane, limped out on my (still) snow covered porch and saw this in the street in front of me.

I understand that there was a small fire inside the house a couple of doors from me. Thankfully, the firemen easily extinguished it and no one was seriously hurt. Whew!

Super Story Song

Corey’s Coming ~ Harry Chapin

Super Furball-Nosehose Insight

Yesterday I had an insight into why—never a question to ask a cat, I’ve learned—Alex hassles me to get up from whatever I’m doing when he seemingly wants nothing from me. Here’s the process of my enlightenment:

I am sitting in my desk chair seeking holes in my nosehose, marking them with a red Sharpie, and covering them with duct tape when the furball begins clawing at my robe.

I grab my cane, stand, ask Alex, “What do you want now?”, and following him into the kitchen where he jumps up on his table (it was once my table), and sits behind his dual food dish (one side is dry food, the other is moist with lots of gravy which is just about all the furball eats of it) that is still filled with food from the last time we did went through this maneuver about thirty minutes before.

Alex begins nibbling at his food and I turn to return to my chair. Suddenly I am stopped by something (someone) yanking on my nosehose. I look behind me to see Alex chasing, capturing, clawing, and chewing my nosehose.

And this is my insight: when Alex hassles me for no apparent reason, his objective is to get me to move around which makes my nosehose swish around, and he can practice his stalking, capturing, and slaughtering skills on my nosehose.

So I sat back down in desk chair began seeking new holes in my nosehose, marking them with a red Sharpie, and covering them with duct tape. At least I now have insight as to why I do this every day.

I hope you enjoy the Super Bowl—or whatever you plan to do—today!

Winter Storm, Mom, & Alex

In yesterday’s blog post I wrote that this storm has knocked the power at my mother’s condo and she was trapped reclining in her lift chair that she couldn’t get down. I talked with her and my sister this morning: my sister and her husband made it through the snow to Mom’s house last night and thankfully rescued her from her chair.

The electricity remains out at Mom’s house and is also out at my sister’s house. I have electric power, but had no TV until a few minutes ago because my satellite dish was iced over until the sun began thawing it.

Since my mother’s condo is new and all-electric, she has no heat, lights, or means of cooking food. My sister told me that my mother is now in bed with four blankets over her.

I checked for information on the power outage caused by this storm and learned that approximately 100,000 in Louisville are without electricity and another 100,000 customers across Kentucky are without electricity.

Alex is not taking the snow any better than he has taken the nasty white water on the ground before. He is house bound, not liking it, and is hassling me. I have gotten no closer to the white world outside than Alex has:

Tasha took the following photographs of my street with my camera before she left work today