Straight From The Pony's Grandma's Mouth

For those of you missing the antics of my mom lately, here's an update.

Mom had a seizure on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. My sister the ex-mayor's wife was there with her at the time, so Mom was whisked first to a local hospital, then to Barnes, where she spent a week laying around in bed because they do not do therapy, apparently, but only use their patients as teaching vessels for future doctors. Mom has no complaints. She loved the people there.

Tuesday Mom was foisted upon a hospital closer to home, under the guise of them having a 24-hour physical therapy staff, and the promise that they would take Mom to her scheduled doctor appointments in the city. Otherwise, Mom would have come to a rehab facility right here in Backroads, where she would be easily accessible for our visits.

The new hospital has been physically therapizing Mom relentlessly. Which is good for her. She had weakness in her right arm and leg after the seizure, and even though the arm recovered quickly, the leg still needs work. Today, for example, Mom is scheduled for three hours of therapy. They have her out running laps, I suppose, with a walker. But herein lies the crux of today's blog post.

This is the only day I can go for a visit. I sent my sister a text asking for the number to find out Mom's therapy schedule. Sis has been calling all week, and running up there intermittently for visits. She's already retired, you know. Unlike me. I am counting down that year and a half. Hick said that the hospital told them only one family member should call about therapy. I knew Sis had been doing that, so I wanted to make sure she hadn't already called today. No need to get put on the naughty list.

Sis pooh-poohed my idea of only one person calling. "Of course they told us that. Then the other workers said to have EVERY family member call, because they just don't like to answer the phone down in that department. Go ahead and call." She gave me the number.

On my first attempt, no one answered. I gave it 10 rings. "Oh, well," I thought. "They must be working with patients, and can't come to the phone." So I tried again two hours later.

The lady who answered on my second call was not a happy camper. She kind of spit out her name, like Doug Neidermeyer in Animal House when he said, "PLEDGE PIN!" She gave some kind of foreign-sounding name, though she had no trace of an accent, just a Backroadsian twang. I cannot remember the name she gave, but it was something like Adele Dazeem.

I politely inquired about the therapy time today for Val's Mom. Well. You would have thought I was asking for the combination to the safe at Fort Knox.

"Do you have the code word? I can't release that information without the code word."

Still. I thought to myself, "Oh. They have a policy for patient privacy." And I said, "No. My sister has that." And because I am Val, and do not suffer ignoramuses gladly, I also had to get in a jab for her surly demeanor, even though what she told me was perfectly plausible. As I took the phone away from my face, just before pushing 'End,' I said, "You have been quite helpful." Yes. In a sarcastic manner. Gotta fight fire with fire.

So I sent a text to Sis. "The hospital says I need the code word to find out when Mom has therapy. A really rude woman told me that. So I want that code word, because I am going to give it to 100 people and have them call to check on Mom's therapy schedule every day."

Sis replied: "I have never used a code word. I call all the time. They have that schedule on a big board, with patients' names written in."

I gave up on finding the magic word, pretty sure that it wasn't "Please." I tried to call Mom, but her phone was busy for 45 minutes. I finally got her just before we were planning to leave here.

"Oh. They're coming to get me for therapy right after lunch, which is now. So maybe you should come later, when I'm back."

"Okay. I tried to find out about your schedule, but I didn't have the code word, and Sis says she doesn't have it, either. The lady was kind of rude."

"Your sister has been trying to get that code word all morning. They wouldn't tell her anything. I gather that there's a worker here who is leaving, and is not very happy about it."

I felt like calling back again and again, then hanging up if Adele answered. But since Val is not 13 years old, I let it go.

We had a nice visit with Mom, and found out she's been caught in the middle of two conspiracies already! Nothing is ever simple for The Thevictorian family. More tales of Mom's adventures at a later date. Rest assured that she is still kickin', and according to her, the workers there like her. They really like her. They fight over who gets to work with her.

There you have it. Straight from The Pony's grandma's mouth.