Fiorella had it all planned out. She woke up at 7:00 and packed all her stuff in a tote, then set off at 8:00 for her ophthamologist appointment in Austin at 9:20. The drive usually takes forty-five minutes, but Fio allowed for traffic slowdowns on the interstate. What she did not bargain for was almost three hours of claustrophobic inch-by-inch driving. She staggered into the doctor's office late, but the women at the desk understood and assured her they would be able to fit her in within an hour, but Fio asked them to set the new appointment for 1:30 because she had another appointment at 11:30.
But the 11:30 appointment didn't work out. At loose ends, Fio picked up a Colonel Sanders lunch and drove around a little, then attended her 1:30 ophthamology appointment. As part of the exam, her eyes were dilated, so afterwards, so she waited about an hour until she thought the dilation had abated enough for her to drive. She took off at about 3:00. Horror upon horror, she had trouble seeing the lane divides. Nothing to do but take the access roads, drive slowly, and pray. Needless to say, several drivers indicated their displeasure.
When Fio finally made it home and told Husband about her day, he wasn't at all sympathetic. In fact, he was horrified when she told him that after two hours of stand-still traffic, she had started screaming, banging her wheel, and honking her horn. For her part, Fio was not happy to see the house was in disarray and that, again, the front door had been left hanging open.
Husband went upstairs, and Fio heard a sound like someone falling hard. She ran up to the bedroom and found Husband face down, half on the bed, half on the floor, He told her that not only had he been dizzy for a couple of days, but he'd fallen earlier in the day when she was gone. With visions of a pneumonia relapse dancing in her head and getting angrier with every mile, Fiorella, still fighting left-over dilation, drove him to the emergency room. She already had enough on her plate, and now she was facing a repeat of the in-and-out horror of a couple of months ago. It was too much.
She threw a fit in the hospital, something she would have never believed herself capable of. She sees herself as the nice person, the one who keeps her head when all about were losing theirs. But the worm had turned. Enough was enough. She yelled. She cried, She cursed. She got escorted out by a security guard and a counselor.
The counselor talked with her as she sobbed her heart out. He was a nice guy who told her to be good to herself and relax, yada, yada, which is all well and good, but Fio, whose prime directive is action, doesn't want to relax. She wants to accomplish--to write books and paint pictures and learn languages. She wants, to save the world.
Is that too much to ask?
PS: The dilation left-over persisted and she had to drive all the way home in the dark of night at a snail's pace, with every headlight, traffic light, and neon sign shattering into vibrant colors in front of her. Always have a designated driver with you when you go to the ophthamologist.
Showing posts with label fall. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fall. Show all posts
Thursday, November 17, 2016
Yesterday's News
Fiorella had it all planned out. She woke up at 7:00 and packed all her stuff in a tote, then set off at 8:00 for her ophthamalogist appointment in Austin at 9:20. The drive usually takes forty-five minutes, but Fio allowed for traffic slowdowns on the interstate. What she did not bargain for was almost three hours of claustrophobic inch-by-inch driving. She staggered into the doctor's office late, but the women at the desk understood and assured her they would be able to fit her in within an hour, but Fio asked them to set the new appointment for 1:30 because she had another appointment at 11:30.
But the 11:30 appointment didn't work out. At loose ends, Fio picked up a Colonel Sanders lunch and drove around a little, then attended her 1:30 appointment. As part of the exam, her eyes were dilated, and afterwards, she waited about an hour till she thought the dilation had abated enough for her to drive. She took off at about 3:00, horror upon horror, had trouble seeing the lane divides. Nothing to do but take the access roads, drive slowly, and pray. Needless to say, several drivers indicated their displeasure.
When Fio finally made it home and told Husband about her day, he wasn't at all sympathetic. In fact, he was horrified that, an hour of stand-still traffic, she had started screaming, banging her wheel, and honking her horn. For her part, Fio was not happy to see the house was in disarray and discover that the front door was hanging open.
Husband went upstairs, and Fio heard a sound like someone falling hard. She ran up to the bedroom and found Husband face down, half on the bed, half on the floor and he told her that not only had he been dizzy for a couple of days, but he'd fallen earlier in the day when she was gone. With visions of a pneumonia relapse dancing in her head, Fiorella, fighting left-over dilation the whole way, drove him lickity-split to the emergency room, getting angrier with every mile. She already had enough on her plate, and now she was facing a repeat of the in-and-out horror of a couple of months ago. It was too much.
She threw a fit in the hospital, something she would have never believed herself capable of--she'd always striven so hard to be a nice person, the one who kept her head when all about were losing theirs. But the worm had turned. Enough was enough. She yelled, cried, and cursed. She got escorted out by a security guard and a counselor.
The counselor stayed and talked with her as she sobbed her heart out. He told her to be good to herself and relax, yada, yada, which is all well and good, but Fio, whose inborn prime directive is action, doesn't want to relax. She wants to accomplish--to write books and paint pictures and learn languages, to walk into a neat, clean, organized house, and to save the world.
Is that too much to ask?
(PS: The dilation left-over persisted and she had to drive all the way home slowly, complete with honking cars, in the dark of night with every headlight, traffic light, and neon sign shattering into colors in front of her. And you wonder why she's tense.)
But the 11:30 appointment didn't work out. At loose ends, Fio picked up a Colonel Sanders lunch and drove around a little, then attended her 1:30 appointment. As part of the exam, her eyes were dilated, and afterwards, she waited about an hour till she thought the dilation had abated enough for her to drive. She took off at about 3:00, horror upon horror, had trouble seeing the lane divides. Nothing to do but take the access roads, drive slowly, and pray. Needless to say, several drivers indicated their displeasure.
When Fio finally made it home and told Husband about her day, he wasn't at all sympathetic. In fact, he was horrified that, an hour of stand-still traffic, she had started screaming, banging her wheel, and honking her horn. For her part, Fio was not happy to see the house was in disarray and discover that the front door was hanging open.
Husband went upstairs, and Fio heard a sound like someone falling hard. She ran up to the bedroom and found Husband face down, half on the bed, half on the floor and he told her that not only had he been dizzy for a couple of days, but he'd fallen earlier in the day when she was gone. With visions of a pneumonia relapse dancing in her head, Fiorella, fighting left-over dilation the whole way, drove him lickity-split to the emergency room, getting angrier with every mile. She already had enough on her plate, and now she was facing a repeat of the in-and-out horror of a couple of months ago. It was too much.
She threw a fit in the hospital, something she would have never believed herself capable of--she'd always striven so hard to be a nice person, the one who kept her head when all about were losing theirs. But the worm had turned. Enough was enough. She yelled, cried, and cursed. She got escorted out by a security guard and a counselor.
The counselor stayed and talked with her as she sobbed her heart out. He told her to be good to herself and relax, yada, yada, which is all well and good, but Fio, whose inborn prime directive is action, doesn't want to relax. She wants to accomplish--to write books and paint pictures and learn languages, to walk into a neat, clean, organized house, and to save the world.
Is that too much to ask?
(PS: The dilation left-over persisted and she had to drive all the way home slowly, complete with honking cars, in the dark of night with every headlight, traffic light, and neon sign shattering into colors in front of her. And you wonder why she's tense.)
Tuesday, December 15, 2015
Holiday Schedule
Fiorella assured Husband she would have all the Christmas decorations done by the end of the week. Then she lost yesterday to his medical procedure and a fall she took while she was trying to get up on an outside chair--one of those heavy wrought iron things--to rehang the plastic snowflakes that had fallen off a misshapen little front-yard tree. She hit the back of her head on the ground and twisted her right foot. The head seems to be okay, but the arch of Fio's foot is so swollen that she's holding onto whatever's handy as she limps around the house. No ladder-climbing for her for a while.
Sigh. Looks like the decorations are going to be the usual count-down to the wire.
Sigh. Looks like the decorations are going to be the usual count-down to the wire.
Tuesday, July 7, 2015
And Jill Came Tumbling After
Fiorella took another tumble
.
Visiting Friend Jamie, who was graciously helping Fio set up a promotional dealie, your intrepid blogger misestimated the distance between the flagstone steps and the concrete porch floor and landed the right side of her face on said floor. No broken bones, and, so far, no bruising, but we'll see what Fio looks like tomorrow.
.
Visiting Friend Jamie, who was graciously helping Fio set up a promotional dealie, your intrepid blogger misestimated the distance between the flagstone steps and the concrete porch floor and landed the right side of her face on said floor. No broken bones, and, so far, no bruising, but we'll see what Fio looks like tomorrow.
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Oh, Deer!
Grab the Neosporin--Fiorella had an adventure.
She was walking around the driveway, accompanied, as always, by the faithful Sonia. Fio is proud to say that Doggie has become inured to the sounds of riding mowers and neighborhood construction, and even tolerates passing cars and the yammering of next-door dogs. In fact, Fiorella was promising Sonia a second lap around the driveway when a spotted fawn leaped up beside them and rocketed away.
Sonia was on it in a flash, jerking the leash around Fiorella's wrist so strongly and suddenly that all Fio had time to do as she slammed down into the grass off the driveway was think "uh-oh." Luckily she fell on her left hip, not the replacement one, but she did have to lie on the ground. breathing hard, for a few minutes before getting up. Injuries were slight--a few cuts and abrasions and an angry prickling that made her wonder if she'd landed in an ant bed.
Sonia soon came bounding back, full of the joy of the chase, looked up at Mommy, and smiled. Mommy did not smile back, and Sonia did not get her second loop around the driveway.
She was walking around the driveway, accompanied, as always, by the faithful Sonia. Fio is proud to say that Doggie has become inured to the sounds of riding mowers and neighborhood construction, and even tolerates passing cars and the yammering of next-door dogs. In fact, Fiorella was promising Sonia a second lap around the driveway when a spotted fawn leaped up beside them and rocketed away.
Sonia was on it in a flash, jerking the leash around Fiorella's wrist so strongly and suddenly that all Fio had time to do as she slammed down into the grass off the driveway was think "uh-oh." Luckily she fell on her left hip, not the replacement one, but she did have to lie on the ground. breathing hard, for a few minutes before getting up. Injuries were slight--a few cuts and abrasions and an angry prickling that made her wonder if she'd landed in an ant bed.
Sonia soon came bounding back, full of the joy of the chase, looked up at Mommy, and smiled. Mommy did not smile back, and Sonia did not get her second loop around the driveway.
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