Monday, August 22, 2005
Juanita and the Chocolate Factory
It's been rather hectic, and it looks like it will continue to be, so I'll be posting every Monday.
By this time the weather had turned very hot and muggy. South Florida in the middle of August isn't usually a good place to be. The heat isn' the problem. Actually my grandfather and I would probably be comfortable in Death Valley as long as there was water and chocolate ice cream. But the humidity was causing problems with my grandfather's breathing. While our mobile home's air conditioner was working well, it gets to the point where there is just so much humidity in the air that cooling it doesn't help. It was just hard for him to breath.
The last X-rays showed that the PC was gone. However, my grandfather's TB had returned. He had contracted TB in the 1950's and we had moved to Florida in 1960 for his health. It had been in remission since the early '60's but now with an impaired immune system the patches, along with that characteristic nagging cough, had returned. Combined with emphysema, TB can be even more nasty.
When Juanita came by to check on Bamps, she was concerned about his oxygen levels so she drew blood to take to the lab. However Bamps' blood didn't clot properly after the needle was removed and he kept bleeding for about 20 minutes and saturated several bandages. Fortunately he stopped bleeding on his own. By the end of the day, after the doctors looked at his bloodwork, Juanita had returned with a respiratory therapist, some sort of aerolyzer treatment machine, more drugs, an order for yet more bloodwork, and an entire try of homemade chocolate fudge. "After all," Juanita said, "you're as skinny as a snake! We gotta put some weight back on those old bones of yours!"
The thrush was still a problem, but it wasn't as bad as it had been. At least my grandfather had been able to put his teeth back in and chew food again for at least one meal. He was also drinking Ensure, about four cans a day, but was still loosing weight. We all figured the fudge wouldn't hurt, and if he put on a few pounds that would be great.
Chrissie was coming over every day to visit and have a Manhattan with him every evening, even though she frequently ended up finishing his. No use letting good booze go to waste. Hank and I usually took advantage of their "cocktail hour" to go to the store or drive down to the beach to relax a bit.
My grandfather's friends were always stopping by so he was never bored. Funny how a couple of the guys always used to show up shortly after Juanita's green station wagon pulled in! Some days it was like Grand Central, especially if the Yankees were playing. On Saturdays we always had a revolving door going, especially in the late afternoon.
One of new visitors was a retired Episcopal priest named Fred. Bamps was not a religious person even though he had been raised in the Episcopal Church. He was believer, but he just didn't like churches. My grandmother was the same way. Both felt that if they wanted to talk to God, they didn't need to go anywhere special. While Bamps didn't feel he needed "pastoring" as he put it, he and Fred did discover they had two things in common: they both were from Binghamton, New York, and they both were Yankee fans. So Bamps was added to Fred's weekly rounds according the upcoming Yankees schedule, whether on radio or televised.
Now that's a responsive clergyman!
By this time the weather had turned very hot and muggy. South Florida in the middle of August isn't usually a good place to be. The heat isn' the problem. Actually my grandfather and I would probably be comfortable in Death Valley as long as there was water and chocolate ice cream. But the humidity was causing problems with my grandfather's breathing. While our mobile home's air conditioner was working well, it gets to the point where there is just so much humidity in the air that cooling it doesn't help. It was just hard for him to breath.
The last X-rays showed that the PC was gone. However, my grandfather's TB had returned. He had contracted TB in the 1950's and we had moved to Florida in 1960 for his health. It had been in remission since the early '60's but now with an impaired immune system the patches, along with that characteristic nagging cough, had returned. Combined with emphysema, TB can be even more nasty.
When Juanita came by to check on Bamps, she was concerned about his oxygen levels so she drew blood to take to the lab. However Bamps' blood didn't clot properly after the needle was removed and he kept bleeding for about 20 minutes and saturated several bandages. Fortunately he stopped bleeding on his own. By the end of the day, after the doctors looked at his bloodwork, Juanita had returned with a respiratory therapist, some sort of aerolyzer treatment machine, more drugs, an order for yet more bloodwork, and an entire try of homemade chocolate fudge. "After all," Juanita said, "you're as skinny as a snake! We gotta put some weight back on those old bones of yours!"
The thrush was still a problem, but it wasn't as bad as it had been. At least my grandfather had been able to put his teeth back in and chew food again for at least one meal. He was also drinking Ensure, about four cans a day, but was still loosing weight. We all figured the fudge wouldn't hurt, and if he put on a few pounds that would be great.
Chrissie was coming over every day to visit and have a Manhattan with him every evening, even though she frequently ended up finishing his. No use letting good booze go to waste. Hank and I usually took advantage of their "cocktail hour" to go to the store or drive down to the beach to relax a bit.
My grandfather's friends were always stopping by so he was never bored. Funny how a couple of the guys always used to show up shortly after Juanita's green station wagon pulled in! Some days it was like Grand Central, especially if the Yankees were playing. On Saturdays we always had a revolving door going, especially in the late afternoon.
One of new visitors was a retired Episcopal priest named Fred. Bamps was not a religious person even though he had been raised in the Episcopal Church. He was believer, but he just didn't like churches. My grandmother was the same way. Both felt that if they wanted to talk to God, they didn't need to go anywhere special. While Bamps didn't feel he needed "pastoring" as he put it, he and Fred did discover they had two things in common: they both were from Binghamton, New York, and they both were Yankee fans. So Bamps was added to Fred's weekly rounds according the upcoming Yankees schedule, whether on radio or televised.
Now that's a responsive clergyman!
