All Seasons Assisted Living Tour

HAZMAT Tour

We showed up with plenty of time for Harry’s PT with Prakesh, which was scheduled for between nine and ten. Prakesh didn’t arrive until 10:10 which left Harry in a bit of a snit. Not to worry though, because there will only be one more PT this Wednesday, which is now scheduled from ten to eleven. Harry did pretty good, although he was flagging near the end of the standup and sit-down exercises. After PT Anne and I had lunch at the Brown Jug on East U. It was a construction disaster area as I knew it would be, but I wanted to take her where we had gone on our very first date. Next up was the dinosaur museum, which is all new and quite impressive. Returning to Harry’s, I could not find a parking place and had to go cross-country hunting for one. First, I dropped Anne at the door. Walking back a spot had opened and I almost turned around to fetch the car, but that way lies madness. On my way in I stopped at the office and asked about the previously announced Friday tour of the new assisted living center. As it turned out that tour was more aspirational and because of permitting problems were not going to happen. But later today at five they were going to have a special “hardhat” tour. I told the sales ladies that we would be attending. Then I had to explain who the hell I was. No, I was not Jane nor Jane’s husband. They then asked Harry’s room number and looked at their map and exclaimed what a nice view he must have. Then they launched into sales mode detailing how much better the views will be in the new wing. Better act fast and get your application in, now!

Returning to the apartment, I told Anne about the tour, but she seemed unsure about attending. Not five minutes later, Harry, who cannot hear a thing, asked her about the Friday tour. She came clean and he was visibly excited about it. The tour was at five, but Harry was out the door by four, but not before finding a facemask. I guess he expected massive amounts of dust. When we arrived, there was a crowd in the firepit room milling about. Promptly at five we were all asked to move to the private dining room, where we were all issued helmets and orange dayglow vests, costumes. There were too many for one group, so we were subdivided into three smaller ones. Fortunately, we were in the first group. Access to the new wing was through the dining rooms, bonded in the middle by the kitchen. The new wing looks like a mini-me version of the existing facility, with similar decor and paint schemes. It is too early to talk about the furniture though, because all the tables and chairs in the dining rooms are rented placeholders for inspection purposes only until the factory can fill the real order. All Seasons currently hosts 160 residents. 80 more spots are available in the new wing. Where most of the apartments are two bedrooms. I am uncertain if the second bedroom is for another resident or a personnel caregiver. After ten minutes the tour was over. I gathered the safety gear and Harry headed to dinner. I took lots of pictures and look forward to going over them with Harry tomorrow. Plus, there’ll be more tours.

Indian Pipes

Sometimes called Ghost Pipes, because of their white color, this is the second year in a row that they have sprouted along the path to the beach. This year’s crop was more problematic than last, because they were right next to the path and I figured that they would die by the foot, before they could grow by the inch, but they made it. Indian Pipes are an herbaceous, parasitic, non-photosynthesizing, perennial flowering plant and not a fungus, like I thought before.

In the shipping news, Dave and Declan went canoeing, continuing yesterday’s nautical adventures. They rounded Cedar Point and slipped into Mosquito Bay. David said that the going was easier without Declan’s help, but they had a good time and said that he saw lots of animals.

Meanwhile, Maren took Wyatt again and Anne for the first time, with bacterial sinusitis, to the urgent care. Wyatt got a shot of antibiotics and Anne got an oral dose. Wyatt is scheduled to get two more injections over the next two days and if Anne does not get better, she might get a shot in the butt too. “If only you had brought her in earlier, we might have been able to save her, now it is too late.” Hopefully, the meds that Anne got will cure her of the thick yellow and green nasal discharges, also known as phlegm.

Anne’s New Look

💥💩💥Explosive Diarrhea 💥💩💥

Pumping Up

Cyclosporiasis is an intestinal illness caused by a parasite. Its principal symptom is so-called “explosive diarrhea.” Other symptoms include fatigue and irritability. This microscopic parasite is usually caught by ingesting food or water that already contains it. While an outbreak of cyclosporiasis has spread to 31 states, Southeastern Michigan is currently an epicenter. No one I know has succumb as of yet, but fear of watery bowels is rampant and while we may have nothing to fear except fear itself, this too can lead to fatigue and irritability.

This morning on our way to Harry’s we stopped for gas, which was over $4, thank you Joe Biden Donald Trump. The station had those pumps that talk to you. Maybe just to distract you from their high prices. Anyway, while I was pumping gas, I swear that the voice on the pump used the f-word. Anne thought so too. She thought that there was a couple next to us who were fighting and slumped down to avoid the expected gunfire.

My WordPress service provider offers up “related” past posts. I guess using an AI reading of what I have written. Here is an example and a reminder to always wash your hands:

When I arrived at work this morning a rather unusual conversation was occurring. A women engineer had said, “After I pump gas, I always use hand sanitizer, because you never know where that nozzle has been.” An engineer suggest using gasoline to sterilize the pump handle, which sounded dangerous. Another male engineer responded, “I don’t worry about pumping gas, but I do worry about using a public restroom, because you don’t know what people have been doing in there. “What do you think that people do in a bathroom”, I thought, but did not voice. 

Dan and Britt are expected here sometime tonight. Hopefully their drive from NYC goes well.

This IS my Happy Face

Anne Channeling Her Mother

The best part of this week of eldercare is the after part. Both the hospital and now the rehab facility are fine, but I cannot wait to get out of these places. Today’s escape route ran via a washateria or should I say the Washtenaw-teria? What kind of life is that that you look forward to doing laundry. Anyway, today’s main after event is dinner at Anne + Bill’s. That should be nice. After today, I only have one more day before I head north again. Tomorrow, direct from NYC Dan + Britt arrive in town. I’ll head north with them on Monday, leaving Anne in Ann Arbor. She is always telling me how much she appreciates the help, let’s see how she feels after I’ve left. This morning she was telling me that she wanted to be in a different generation, but I couldn’t think of a better one than the one that we are living. We are living the sandwich life, with family pressing in from both sides. Sometimes we’re the pickle. Sometimes, like when there is too much mayo, we end up getting squeezed out on the floor. Anne is seen above making a face that her mother used to make. It signified that she was not amused. This morning while we were driving to see Harry, Anne wondered what Google Maps would sound like if the app adopted her voice, “You’re doing it wrong.”

Jailbreak

Photo by Tim Hüfner on Unsplash

We sprung Harry from St. Joe’s today and carried him away. Silver Alert! The medical police were in hot pursuit. We led them on a long and merry chase that ended down in Saline, at a rehab center. The cops seemed to lose interest after that. He was happy to get out of the hospital and was initially pleased with the rehab center, but that pleasure waned with time. He is a hard man to please. Don’t believe me? Just ask Jane. We got there after one, but nothing seemed to happen until after five. That four-hour wait was a killer for Harry. You would think that a 98-year-old man would have more patience, but you would be wrong. Anyway, starting around five the medical professionals began filtering in, including his new doctor, new nurse, and new PT instructor. By that time, his dinner had arrived, so he was less interested in seeing any of them than eating. The doctor discovered that Harry has canticles and the nurse measured his blood oxygen at only 90%, but a minute of heavy breathing got it up to 98%. The doctor is planning on giving him a drug that will make him pee out all of this excess fluid.

Code Blue

Pictured are a couple of topical Milton Kemnitz prints that I found yesterday along “Woodward Avenue” in the hospital. One shows the original St. Joe’s hospital building, which is still standing across the street from our old parish church, St. Thomas. While the other portrays a novel parking solution, three Park Mobile structures. Each tower could hold up to 22 cars. The button-activated structures, which revolved in Ferris-wheel style, were designed to be operated by the drivers. The hospital’s current version is easily its third instance and has acres of parking lots. There was one reported malfunction, where cars were left stuck in the tower.

Harry seems to be improving. He did some rehab this morning and it looks like he will get a spot at a rehab facility soon. Maybe tomorrow? The one in Saline that Jane visited yesterday. Maybe not soon enough for him, but he is only the patient and an impatient one at that. There was a code blue announced over the PA, but other than some poor soul having a bad day, the only other bad thing to happen was a massive IT malfunction, but it got fixed later.

Jane had a great code blue story. She used to work at St. Joe’s and one day while she was in the cafeteria a code blue was sounded. A table full of people in scrubs jumped up and ran out of the cafe. All except for one, he just sat there and then mimed as it to sniff his pits and then shrugged “I don’t know.” The cafeteria broke out laughing. The code blue was not on his floor.

699 E Kingsley – Original St. Joe’s Hospital