So, I went to see my grandfather today. No, I didn't call that guy. If y'all thought I was really calling that guy, you're crazy. My grandfather was just a little trickster. First, he wasn't in his apartment. He was visiting the lady next door. Wooo. Then, he kept getting confused, and I was afraid something was really wrong. Until...he told me he wasn't wearing his hearing aide. Hell's Bells!
Here's the best part. He needed a nap. I went to my parents' house to switch closets for the season and take a little nap of my own. I told him I would go to Walmart for him, but he said he didn't need anything. When I got back, he had decided he did need just one little errand. You see, the visiting nurse and my parents had done a little spring cleaning. My grandfather loves him some medicine. He had piles and piles of it that he didn't need anymore. Some of it wasn't in bottles, but he just took a random pill when he thought he might need a little something. So, during the cleaning spree, all the extraneous meds were thrown away.
Needless to say, my grandfather is not a fan. When I came back to the 'Ridge, he said, "Do you know how to get me some Flomax?" I asked him if it was over-the-counter or prescription. It's prescription. He told me about the great pill-disposal incident, and he wondered if my dad might have kept the Flomax since he takes it, too.
He had a great plan. I should take him to my parents' house (since they're not home,) and we should look through my dad's medicine for the Flomax. I told him I couldn't take him in my car. He explained to me exactly how I could. He gets in my dad's car. He holds onto the handle and sits down, and then his walker goes in the backseat, and it works just like that. I repeated, "I can't take you in my car. What if you fall? I can't hold you up." He repeated, "But I go in(your dad's)car. I hold onto the handle..." I told him no. He told me he understood my side. I offered to go look for the Flomax (code for "drive around for 20 minutes and tell him I couldn't find it.") He decided my dad wouldn't like him "plundering around his stuff." Good call.
Still faced with the problem of a bladder infection, (Why Flomax? Why not?) we discussed our options. Take the antibiotic meant for tonight? Well, it's 2:30. Take an aspirin? Probably won't work. Drink some cranberry juice! He didn't want to mix that with his medications. Natch. Finally I caved. I gave him one of my own bladder painkillers. It doesn't metabolize through the liver; won't hurt him. It does turn the urine blue. He'll be in the emergency room tonight for blue urine after failing to heed my direction that "When you go to the bathroom, it will be blue. That's okay." What if it's not blue? "That's okay, too."
Where's Saint Ashley of the Keyboard in all this?
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