Finally success, after a 'conspiracy'...

I was gonna reveal my plan yesterday, but was really uncertain how our GP would react...

So just call me as stubborn as he is, because the past several days were horrific, and Peter was losing it fast. Wednesdays are not 'Spaghetti Day' at his place... It's 'the doctor makes his weekly house call day'.

Peter threw me out of bed at 8 am, 'come quick, I can't breathe...'

Tja, 'quick'... it is still snowing like crazy, traffic was bad, one of the busses threw everyone off at the 'museum of perception' stop, and I had to hoof it half a mile to get there. He was in the worst shape I ever saw him, and slightly incoherent at intervals.

Soo bustling about from the bed-sitter to the kitchen, I took a moment to write the following note: 'Dear Dr. W, check his lungs because I really think he has pneumonia.' And slipped him the note when he arrived. Our GP was already unsettled last week, but this time he went into action.

We went out to the kitchen, and he said Peter had to go to hospital asap. I said, 'I just can't watch this any more.' And he said, 'I know what you mean...' I told him I had been to the social service people, and that they had been there, but seemingly didn't see what was what.

And then he handed over the papers... to me. Wow, just... wow...

And then, THEN, he told Peter he had to go to hospital. And Peter began yelling, 'You're both conspiring against me!' (Yahooo...) And I said, 'If you don't, I will never come here again.' And the GP said, 'Mr. P.... if you are not in a hospital by tomorrow morning, Mr. B is going to call me and tell me you are not. And then you WILL go...' Peter wanted prescriptions for things that had run out. Dr. W. said, 'You'll get all that.... in the hospital.' And refused to write them up.

Finally, finally!!!!

The Dr. left... and then came the not-so-fun part. 'I'll go in.. later today, gimme the papers.' And I said, 'Oh no you don't, you are going NOW.' And called the waaahhhmbulance. How he was yelling, hey. It was like 'stroke day number 2', and he was angry with me, but I didn't care.

Then came the same-old, same-old, 'We can't hospitalise someone against their will' number, and that is a very good thing in most cases. (And Peter was yelling 'I don't wanna go' in the background.) BUT... I had a back-up. Said, 'Listen, his GP was just here and said he needs to go in.'

So the guy asks, what's his doctor's diagnosis. And I looked, and doctors here have a penmanship that is so horrible I couldn't decipher most of it, but very clearly, 'suspicion of a heart attack.'

BINGO, JACKPOT! 'We will be over right away.'

I ran around packing the most necessary stuff for him. They came in about eight minutes. And couldn't get this huge stretcher on rollers into the room as the entries are too narrow. Wrapped him in a sheet, and asked me to help them carry him out into the entryway, and heave him onto it. Oh man, dead weight, hey.

So now he is where he should have been a week before Christmas, and we wouldn't have had all this fuss.

And oh... just got 'the phone call'. Cripes, he is in the kidney dept of the 2nd med at the Landeskrankenhaus. What the hell that means, don't know, but he isn't angry any more. And is on oxygen.

I shut up his apt, turned the heat down somewhat to save him some costs

And went up the street to get the bus home.... his recently moved in next door neighbor was struggling to get up the street. He is paralysed and in a wheelchair, snow coming down, and the slush was tremendous. Hard going. Some neighbors asked if they could get anything for him from the grocery store, and he said 'No, I have to get to an appointment.' And they went on....

So I went over and said, 'Hey, you want a power-push in all this mess?' And he said 'Oh, yes, thank you...' So I got him over to the bus stop, and we talked for about ten minutes. I was pretty sure he is from the Middle East, from how he looked.... Didn't matter, it took my mind off my troubles for those moments. We didn't talk about anything important, mostly the awful weather.... So the bus came, the driver didn't let down the ramp, as per usual, and I heaved the guy into it. Asked him where he was getting off, and he said, 'Jacki'. So that was my transfer place too, and I eased him off the bus, and said, 'by the way, my name is Ren, and you are????' 'Guido'. 'You gonna get to your appointment ok?' 'Yes thanks...' And off he went in the slush.

So seemingly Italian... see how perceptions deceive? And don't anyone come at me with references to 'Jersey Shore'. Am not in the mood, and yes, have seen clips of that idiocy.
(You have to keep SOME sort of sense of humour, or you go bonkers....)