Friday, January 12, 2018


She's 46 in March!
Always a worry.
It was early in the morning, about 6:00 AM, and I was settling down to my day. I had to go to a neurologist appointment for my daughter with developmental disabilities and then later in the afternoon a meeting about a book I am helping to put together.

The news on TV with its usual chatter and nattering filtered through the den and my cup of coffee was still hot. Just wait for the newspapers and I'm ready to start my day.

The phone rings at 6:15 AM, caller ID shows AHRC! Probably getting back to me about the location of the neurologist meeting I requested in a message I left on the nurse's phone.

Mr. Del Broggolo? This is Eric from the ICF (Intermediate Care Facility), we are sending Ellen (my daughter) to the hospital! She has been running a 103 fever so the doctor wants some tests to see what is up.

Casting aside my plans for the day, I jump into my winter coat and head out to the hospital, figuring I'll get there before the agency does with Ellen.

Naturally, it is imperative that I do something to delay things and like clockwork I do. I go to the main entrance and enquire as to where they admit people. Of course, there is no one at the main desk, no volunteers, security guards or even sick people and their worried relatives. I think that business must be bad, and that's good.

Finally, I find a technician or nurse roaming the halls and ask, she tells me that I have to leave the building and walk, way over to the next building, so off I trek, thinking about how far away this would be from my car. As I walk into the next building I think I'll get comfortable and wait, but instead, I hear my name called out, they are there before me! Being admitted! Good God, how bad is this?

My daughter looks fine, she sees me and nearly jumps out of her wheelchair, calling out "Mumma". She calls me ‘Mumma' because she can't speak.

Tomorrow: AN ORDEAL


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