Who's the Boss? (reminder #2)

"Man can make his plans, but it is the Lord's plans that will be established." 
                                                 The Bible, somewhere

Somebody, tell me where this scripture is.  I need to put it on my refrigerator.

For the past few months, I've worked on not having a daily agenda.  It feels chaotic at times, but it beats feeling frustrated when events change as quickly as they have since February.

This is my new motto: Plan nothing. 

Which is kind of impossible, so I modified it:  Plan some things, but don't get attached to them.   

Yesterday offered stretching exercises in living in the moment. (Control freaks, read no further.)

Plan A:  Gym at 8:30.  Fish market on the way home.  Shower, eat breakfast, go see Mom and wait on Dr. R. to approve my taking Mom to the hospital to see Dad.  Catch up on some reading while they visit. 

What really happened:  Gym at 8:30.  Mom called, the nurses needed some info.  Bagged shower and Cheerios.  Headed to see Mom.  On the way, popped in to the health food store for a power shake and wheat grass breakfast.     

Plan B:  See Dr. R., take Mom to see Dad.  Get home, shower, mop the gunk off the kitchen, clear off the mess of paperwork on the bar that has stacked up all week.

What really happened:  We waited an hour and a half for Dr. R.   I slurped on my shake and watched the food channel... 

I smelled my own workout odor and realized I might be in ratty, pungent gym clothes all day.  

I began to get dozey.  I was thinking I might head home and attempt to get the lovebirds together tomorrow, when a nurse told me Dr. R. was on the phone.  He approved the visit.  

He was at the hospital, checking on patients, one of whom would be Dad.  If I could get Mom to Dad's room in half an hour, he could check on them both at the same time.


Plan C:  Scoot across the street with Mom to the hospital.  Easy Peasy.  Hope the folks have a good visit; Mom is getting tired.  Maybe I'll read, maybe not. 

What really happened:  Mom and I packed up and rolled to the car.  The wheelchair was heavy and bulky, and I couldn't get it in the car.  I tossed stuff around and rearranged.  Still didn't fit.  

I remembered that the rehab room had transfer chairs that are smaller, so I took Mom's chair back to her room and went to the gym for a transfer chair.  The therapist told me they only had one, and it was checked out for the day.

OK, then.  Back to Mom's room to reclaim her own chair.  

Back out to the car.  I consolidated the junk in the back of my car and vowed to clean it out soon.  By partly disassembling the chair, I got in it.  Yay!  We drove all of two blocks to the hospital. 

Wheeled Mom into Dad's room.  He was delighted to see his bride...

They had a sweet reunion...

Here they are comparing wrist bands...

I dragged a chair into the hall to read.  I'd read three sentences when Dr. R. arrived to look over Dad's chart.  

Within five minutes, Dr. R. was listening to Mom's lungs and determined she needed another week of Levaquin.  No surgery until the 18th at least.  

This was a surprise because he said her chest X-ray looked OK.  Apparently, there can still be some "rumbling" in the lungs that an X-ray doesn't reveal.  

Even though Mom's surgery is serious, hearing that we needed to wait another week was somehow disappointing.  We had mentally prepared.  

Dr. R. moved on to patient #2.  He spent ten minutes explaining Dad's condition and new meds to us.  Mom drifted off a bit.  The folks were tired by this point.  

Then, Dr. R. announced Dad could go home.  Today.  Right then. 

Wonderful surprise!  But unexpected. 

Plan D:  Hustle Mom back across the street, get her cozied up for her nap, return to the hospital to take Dad home to Southland.  He was so excited to be returning to his own bed.  

What really happened:  Mom got settled in bed.  Back at the hospital, I ran into the husband of a friend who had back surgery on Wednesday.  She'd had some complications, but would be alright.

On my way to the 7th floor to get Dad, I stopped on the 6th floor to see my friend, who I'd not seen in awhile. We chatted a bit, and prayed for a good recovery.  She looked better than I expected, and I was glad that I learned of her surgery. 
When I got to Dad's room, the nurse was just going over his paperwork.  He was dressed and ready to go.  

On the way home, we swung into the drive-through at the pharmacy for Dad's two new drugs.  

"We don't stock Tikosyn," I was told.  "It's a special drug. But I can have the other medicine for you tomorrow morning."  

Hhhmm.  I pulled into the parking lot and called Dr. R.'s answering service.  Within five minutes, he called me.  "I'll find a pharmacy that has it and call you back," he said. 

I drove Dad home, where he was greeted with hugs from his Southland family.  He headed into the dining room for dinner.  

They were having crab cakes, which I love, so I decided to stay, and ordered a plate.  Before I sat down, Dr. R. called to tell me there was one CVS that stocked Tikosyn. 

Plan E: I'll scarf down my meal and hustle to the drug store.  Return with Dad's med, get him settled at home, head home myself.  Get a shower. 

What really happened:  My sunglasses broke leaving Southland.  Which was OK for the moment, because it was, by then, dusk.

I arrived at the CVS where the Tikosyn is stocked.  The pharmacist told me that this med can only be prescribed by a cardiologist who is registered with the pharmaceutical company.  Dr. R. is not Dad's cardiologist.  

No problem, I said.  Dad's cardio is Dr. J., and this order originated with him.  

The pharmacist called Dr. J's answering service, only to be told that Dr. J. was gone for the weekend.  Dr. C. was filling in.  However, Dr. C. was not registered with the Tikosyn plan.  

Good grief, I thought.  What kind of magic/scary potion is this?

I called Dr. R's answering service again.  I was hanging around the candy aisle, eyeballing a Russell Stovers box of truffles, when he called me back.  

"Tell the pharmacist to call Dr. J. on Monday.  Your Dad will be OK for 24 hours.  Tikosyn has a long half-life (whatever that means), so he should be OK until Monday."

Then he added, "I'm sorry this has been so complicated.  I didn't know we'd have all this trouble.  If the pharmacy can't reach Dr. J. on Monday, call me.  I can reach him."  

I thanked him and finalized plans with the pharmacist.  I bought some fish oil that was BOGO, and left.

When I got home, I had a little snack...

I listened to phone messages, checked emails, and started this post.  Pretty soon it was 11 p.m. 

I went to bed, pooped and unshowered.

It was a haphazard day.  But, one authored by a sovereign God. 

So, I'm OK with it (I keep reminding myself.)

My plan for today - get a shower.

I wonder what God has planned.  


Anonymous said...

Proverbs 19:21, i think

Sherry said...

I'm exhausted just reading about your day!! And you still made time to bring the paint can for me...you're awesome! Thanx ;)
The pix of the 'reunion' brought tears to my eyes...what a beautiful relationship...for how many yeas??...another exhausting thought!