Monday grandpa passed out in the yard. 100-percent Reliable Fayette Memorial sent him home with a candy bar and told him to rest up. Earlier today his legs went numb and the ambulance took him to the hospital. They did a Catscan and again told him to go home and rest up. Just as aunt donna and uncle mike had him settled, they ordered a pizza. The doc called around 5 and told him there was bleeding on the brain in two spots, a handful of hematomas, etc., and that, ‘by they way, come back to the hospital because we are going to life-flight you to Riverside in Columbus.’
Once back in the friendly halls of Riverside, a few doors down from my sister’s old room, we learned that the spots on the Catscan might be from a long time ago. Grandpa was born on March 15, 1919. He winked at me and asked about the pig. Within seconds, five out of six of my grandpa’s children, and many of his children’s children, were on hand. We filled a waiting room. Many of these people live far away but happened to be in town at the time.
At least they have good timing with their brain bleeds. The usual thing with the waiting and the watching for the next few days. The nurse recognized my mother.
Amanda, consequently, had been at Riverside all morning for a check-up.
Everyone remains skeptical of certain medical professionals.
I am considering purchasing a VIP parking spot near the hospital cafeteria.
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