Saturday, September 4, 2010

poor poppa

"Police, fire, or ambulance." a voice queried. "Ambulance please" I stated quickly. By the time I had given my address, I could hear the First Response siren heading towards us from the Fire Hall.
After moving to Aldergrove, my father kept track of the Fire Station siren and observed that a day was not complete without hearing it's wail at least once. This time, I felt only relief.
Now, in his elder years, my father's diabetes has caused a few trips to the emergency ward. Tonight was one of those trips.
We were so relieved that an overnight stay was finally ruled out, IV lines would be removed and we'd be on our way. The male nurse, thinking that pulling the tape off in one quick movement would be most humane, pulled away, and skin tore wherever tape had touched. The cure was definitely worse than the ailment. My poor poppa. Not a peep! "Why didn't you yell?" I gasped. "I couldn't," he admitted, "It took my breath away." He arrived home swathed in bandages (all tape free of course) We all feel a little shell shocked, but amazed by the help available to us tonight. Four firemen, two paramedics, three nurses, two lab technicians ( he had six blood tests over the course of the evening), an x-ray technician, and a doctor ( in a pear tree??). As I listed them off, I heard a dreadful version of the twelve days of Christmas in my head. Must be the late hour, but it's made me smile. I'll tell Dad in the morning.

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