Chapter 2 of the Roof Adventure.
Tim.....well, he and family are now about $30,000 and climbing, in medical debt due to the fall.
The helicopter flight alone cost 12,000 and 6,000 just to lift off the ground.
Then there is a specialist and 5 hours of surgery and 2 hospitals and an 2 ambulances and nurses and x-rays and whatever else I forgot for the 2 hospitals.
It's cost me $40.00 emergency money and $30.00 for gas to drive to Seattle and back and another $20.00 for gas for their car and another $16.67 for gas in my car to run them around to doctor appointments and to grocery stores and to Tokeland and other errands. And to top it all off another $10.00 for a stinking gas cap that I dropped and broke when getting gas.
Then there's the payment on the electric bill for them trying to help my daughter out a little; it wasn't necessary but that's a whopper to face alone. Thank God he's healing nicely so far.
Of coarse there's a little side drama going on. The prescription for the therapist and when to start therapy plus what was done and prescription for medications and how to take care of the wound and another paper for when to return to the hospital to see the surgeon for a follow-up ; these papers were all left at the hospital in Seattle. They got handed to Robin then she handed them back to the nurse so she could help Tim get dressed. The nurse laid them on the rolling bed table and joined in helping prepare him to leave the hospital; getting him into a coat and wheel chair to go to the pick up area where I was waiting with the vehicle.
When Robin and Tim tried to get the hospital in Seattle to fax the papers to their family doctor, they got flack; no! So they had to have the doctor raise hell with the hospital so he'd have instructions on how to take care of the wound.
Now I understand that anyone could call and say they were someone else; but what good would papers for care of the wound do them? What good would what was done do them? What good would the prescription for who to see for therapy and when to go do them?
Especially when the family doctor's name and fax was given to the hospital to send the documents to, not theirs; and the hospital was given the family doctor's name, address, phone and fax number when they transferred him from the paramedic on the helicopter to the paramedic in the second ambulance to the admitting person at the hospital. In other words that information followed along with Tim from the original ambulance ride from his house to the final destination so the surgeon would have all pertinent information and access to further information as needed. To me if that person that refused to fax the paperwork would have just checked the file, they would have found that out and should have had proof enough that the doctor was their family doctor they referred to from the beginning.
Some people just don't like to help anyone.
So as it stands now, I don't know if they got the papers or not yet. I know he's got his oral meds and the family doctor has been telling him when to come in and get the external stitches out; the internal will dissolve in time.
Talk about an ugly mess. I saw it Christmas Day and gagged. He has to air it out for periods during the day to help it heal, otherwise it gets to looking like cream cheese that's been whipped frothy and decorated with liver that's set in the air till it turns a funky green around the edges. Like I said, "I wanted to puke just looking at it, but was able to hold it to a gag."
He's out driving now and isn't suppose to be. He has to drive one handed and wound up in the raspberry bushes the other day.
I was called to give him a jump start; the car was dead. He wound up pissed at me because I wouldn't drive down into a muddy pot hole driveway to give his car a jump after driving him to the parts place where he got parts and told James how to do what he thought needed done to fix the problem. He found out later that night that he needed a new battery.
I don't care how upset he gets, or anyone else for that matter. It's my car and I'm the one that will wind up having to help myself out of the jam I allow myself to get into. Plus, my car slips and slides too much to take chances on breaking something, or me getting stuck in their driveway too. I just won't do it when I feel it's not a good idea; if that means I'm an ass hole. No problem! I'm an asshole; so what else is new?
Then there's the payment on the electric bill for them trying to help my daughter out a little; it wasn't necessary but that's a whopper to face alone. Thank God he's healing nicely so far.
Of coarse there's a little side drama going on. The prescription for the therapist and when to start therapy plus what was done and prescription for medications and how to take care of the wound and another paper for when to return to the hospital to see the surgeon for a follow-up ; these papers were all left at the hospital in Seattle. They got handed to Robin then she handed them back to the nurse so she could help Tim get dressed. The nurse laid them on the rolling bed table and joined in helping prepare him to leave the hospital; getting him into a coat and wheel chair to go to the pick up area where I was waiting with the vehicle.
When Robin and Tim tried to get the hospital in Seattle to fax the papers to their family doctor, they got flack; no! So they had to have the doctor raise hell with the hospital so he'd have instructions on how to take care of the wound.
Now I understand that anyone could call and say they were someone else; but what good would papers for care of the wound do them? What good would what was done do them? What good would the prescription for who to see for therapy and when to go do them?
Especially when the family doctor's name and fax was given to the hospital to send the documents to, not theirs; and the hospital was given the family doctor's name, address, phone and fax number when they transferred him from the paramedic on the helicopter to the paramedic in the second ambulance to the admitting person at the hospital. In other words that information followed along with Tim from the original ambulance ride from his house to the final destination so the surgeon would have all pertinent information and access to further information as needed. To me if that person that refused to fax the paperwork would have just checked the file, they would have found that out and should have had proof enough that the doctor was their family doctor they referred to from the beginning.
Some people just don't like to help anyone.
So as it stands now, I don't know if they got the papers or not yet. I know he's got his oral meds and the family doctor has been telling him when to come in and get the external stitches out; the internal will dissolve in time.
Talk about an ugly mess. I saw it Christmas Day and gagged. He has to air it out for periods during the day to help it heal, otherwise it gets to looking like cream cheese that's been whipped frothy and decorated with liver that's set in the air till it turns a funky green around the edges. Like I said, "I wanted to puke just looking at it, but was able to hold it to a gag."
He's out driving now and isn't suppose to be. He has to drive one handed and wound up in the raspberry bushes the other day.
I was called to give him a jump start; the car was dead. He wound up pissed at me because I wouldn't drive down into a muddy pot hole driveway to give his car a jump after driving him to the parts place where he got parts and told James how to do what he thought needed done to fix the problem. He found out later that night that he needed a new battery.
I don't care how upset he gets, or anyone else for that matter. It's my car and I'm the one that will wind up having to help myself out of the jam I allow myself to get into. Plus, my car slips and slides too much to take chances on breaking something, or me getting stuck in their driveway too. I just won't do it when I feel it's not a good idea; if that means I'm an ass hole. No problem! I'm an asshole; so what else is new?
posted by Jan myrz @ 9:14 AM
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