Under Pressure

Entry 1.    11:32 a.m.

Willow gave me a wild ride this morning at 7:00, trying to bum rush a neighbor getting into his car. I know her very well now, and had hold of her fur faster than she could react, and soon after grabbed her harness.  In the kerfuffle of wrangling her, I dropped my phone in the grass. I didn't know this at the time, but only realized in an hour later. The best part about that is my phone lay in the grass where I dropped it as the rain fell-it had been falling all morning, why stop on my phone's account?  I put it in rice, at Jenny's suggestion.

Jenny left with Moni for chemo about the same time I tried to dry out my phone.  I went to work and forgot about my personal cell. Just after 10, my work cell rings, it's Jenny on the phone, calling to tell me her blood pressure 70/30 was so low they were transferring her to the ER. 

Moni took Jenny here, but left to go to an appt around 10. Jeanne, Jenny's escort home, was cancelled.  I arrived around 11. I learned right before I left that the ER thought Jenny's night meds caused this and were perplexed as to why she was sent here. Jenny is annoyed. I am glad, and hope to talk to the ER doc about the bruise on her chin that reflects the fall she had in the wee small hours of the morning.

She is high on fentanyl all the time, I write as I am looking at her. I hate it for her and me, but am grateful the meds she is using do now seem to be working.

Jenny will be sent back up to chemo to get therapy after all. Jeanne will come and get her. I am leaving after the 2 boluses are administered, maybe.

It doesn't get better than this. When I asked the person bringing me back to Jenny's ER Bay, I asked if she wanted to see my proof of vaccination.  She said that every other room has a patient with COVID, what's the point of showing me your card. Cheery-bye.

Entry 2     11:53

The woman next to us, just brought into this shared bay space is either related to Wendy Whiner or the first, "I've fallen and I can't get up," lady.

Drug seeker.

Entry 3      7:48 p.m.

Dr. P was asked by Jenny if she could driven on the narcotic drugs she is prescribed. She texted us, her sisters and I, that Dr. P said she could drive. That didn't sit right with me. Jeanne, who was with her at chemo texted to say Jenny is sleeping. I called and asked her what Dr. P. said.  Thank God for Jeanne. It turns out, Dr. P told Jenny that it is an individual decision whether she drive or not. He suggested she get someone to ride around the block with her and see how comfortable they are.  He is a coward. I am not. I won't ride with her. I told the kids not to ride with her ever. I am going to tell her that I won't stop her, but I'd she drives I will have to call 911. She is on a .25 microgram fentynal patch and 20 mg. of oxycodone every 4 hours. There isn't a world that exists where, that juiced, and after having suffered so much weight loss, and where she can barely walk a few feet, that driving would be deemed safe. Sigh. Damn Dr. P.


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