May I skip the month of May, please?

Well, May has sure started out, um, interestingly!

 

I'll start with Scott. A former co-worker of his has virtually begged him to call for a position at Boeing. Since Dreamworks hasn't called, nor has Sony, nor has Disney or the Orphanage or WETA, Scott is seriously considering calling Boeing.

 

That's not really the "interesting" part.

 

Last week, Scott contracted a sore throat. It was so bad, that when he lay down to sleep, his breathing passages were blocked and he couldn't breathe through his mouth or his nose. He went to the doctor, saw our Physician's Assistant, and got some antibiotics to take if the results of the culture they took was strep. Meanwhile, he got no sleep, going back from bed to sofa to bed back to sofa trying to sleep and breathe at the same time, and the result of the culture were that it isn't strep.

 

This past Sunday, he was in pretty severe throat pain, and began "hacking" out bloody mucus (TMI, I know but, well…). I was under the impression that these were pretty serious symptoms and told him he ought to go to Urgent Care or ER and get himself checked more thoroughly. Then he began to have bloody noses on top of that. So, he drove himself over to Urgent care, and they told him it was a pretty strong case of a sinus infection. And that his throat tissues were probably raw and bleeding and perhaps his nose had the same condition.

 

(Now, Sunday was a pretty busy day for the Mankey family: I had a cake to decorate for the daughter of our friends who earned her Girl Scout Gold Award, and was slated to shoot still photos, and Scott was slated to shoot the video. I was a little worried if we'd make it.)

 

The stiffness and pain everywhere else in his body started on Sunday, too. Yes, that was in April, but at the end of the month.

 

Fast forward to Tuesday, May 1. Scott shuffled around like Tim Conway from the Carol Burnett show. He told me his pain was severe; I asked him if he'd be alright while I went to my hair appointment. He said sure—he had his sofa, his meds, some water, the remotes—he had all he needed. Every time he moved, tho, he winced so badly, I wondered if it was wise to leave him.

 

As I drove back from my hair cut, I got a call from his doctor (with whom I'd left a message in the morning), and simultaneously got a call from Scott, saying he wanted to go to ER.

 

I got home and we folded him into my car for the ride to ER. When we got there, we were fortunate to be the only ones in the waiting room. The intake nurse called his name and we went into the "triage" room. I add the "surly" nurse. He appeared to have the personality of a cinder block. When I tried to add information, he curtly rolled his eyes and continued completing the intake form. We saw that "body aches" had been written on the form, and tried to let him know it was more serious than this, but he just kept on writing his notes and rolling his eyes. I was quite offended; the wife usually knows a lot about the husband's suffering, especially since she knows the husband when he's healthy. But I shut my mouth, and intended to offer the information to the ER Doc later.

 

Yes, later. Hours later, after Scott lay in that "table-for-a-bed" in agony, I finally asked for some pain relief. They gave him something, and it didn't touch the pain. I waited for about another 30 minutes, and went out again. That time I lodged a complaint that we hadn't been heard when we described our symptoms. Scott needed a wheelchair to get around in the hospital. The pain was so bad by this time he couldn't walk at all. Getting into that ridiculous bed was a super-human achievement for him.

 

Finally, somebody listened! The blood test results had come back normal; the nurse asked if he had been able to provide a sample for the urinalysis. He never was asked to do this. So, he did that. Then, after the ER nurse-practitioner (we hadn't seen a real doctor yet—after 3 hours) contacted the ER doc, she came back and said that they would have to take more blood for another culture that would take 48 hours to give results.

 

Then, they actually gave him some real pain meds and a new antibiotic, plus three prescriptions. I was so relieved; Scott was actually able to walk out of the hospital, at 7:30 pm, after getting there at 1:30.

 

Yesterday, he was much better, but still had the sore throat challenges. He could at least walk again. I had an errand to run, and the next part is the May 2 "interesting" day.

 

On the way home, I thought I had a few minutes to visit my parents' grave. I hadn't done that since my father passed, and had never seen the grave marker. Up the hill, into the valley, there I found my mother's grave. It gave my heart a lurch. Then a bigger lurch happened when I realized that my father's marker was no where near where my mom and I were (her grave, my standing there.) Trying to avoid a panic attack, I drove down to the main office and said I couldn't find my father.

 

After 45 minutes, their research resulted in finding that his body was witnessed and certified to have been buried where it was supposed to be, and the marker placed seven days later. A staff member drove me back up to the gravesites to double check that I was looking in the right place, and well, yes I was.

 

They had no record of the marker ever being removed for repair or replacement, and with their apologies, said they'd find it or make a new one. A new one would take 4-6 weeks to re-set, so I'll just have to wait.

 

Awhile ago, I had said that I didn't know why people visited gravesites. Now I know. It's just to make sure they are still there!

 

Begin May 3. Scott was in some pain again, and I felt funny now. I did my little volunteer thing in Sarah's class and went home. Scott and I had made plans to go to Breakfast at the beach, and off we went. I had felt so "off" that I looked at the coffee pot at home and just didn't want any. As we drove to the restaurant, I felt a rock in my chest (no worries—I don't think it had anything to do with my heart). We sat, ordered, and after just two sips of coffee, I felt like I was going to be very ill, um, one way or the other. After a few minutes, I asked if we could go home, because I was feeling awful. I felt like a rotten person that I got sick at nearly the same time as Scott.

 

We got home, and I was miserable. Called the doc, he ordered some meds for me, and I went to sleep. I awoke for the last time at around 4:pm, and felt somewhat better. It took all I had to get to the school district meeting I had committed to attending, but I went, and I made it through the whole 2 hr. meeting!

 

Other than that, everything is great! 8^)

I wonder what tomorrow will bring.