A "faithful friend" has departed.

We ended the week having some company: Maggi and Clay Weaver drove up from Warner Robins, and we had dinner at Fried Tomato Buffet (which has gone back to buffet, but you are required to put on plastic gloves when serving yourself). When they left, they had James' old power chair in their van with them.

Many medical things were sorted out this week: I had to call Kaiser's claim office, the physiotherapy place, and Hanger Orthotics to straighten out a matter of bills on Tuesday. On Friday James finally had his appointment with the wound clinic. Oddly, given the lather Town Park and Cumberland get into when someone "unauthorized" comes into the facility, Glenlake (like Southwood a couple of months ago) had no trouble with me accompanying James into the office. Thankfully, Dr. Agnew (she's really a physician's assistant, but she performs as a doctor, so I refer to her as one) said what was left of James' leg wound, mostly a raw spot from the blister that came up a couple of days earlier, was superficial. She wrapped it in a bandage infused with calamine lotion (an "unna boot") and advised James of the best way to wear his compression stockings.

We also worked it out that I would remove the bandage next Friday and send her a photograph of it via e-mail. She would then decide if he needed another appointment. She also said the next time his leg starts to look bad to e-mail her with a photo of it and she would try to arrange for him to get in the wound clinic rather than having him go to Urgent Care.

But Thursday was the big day: the deliveryman from National Seating and Mobility delivered James' new power chair. It's identical to the old one, except James asked for a taller headrest. The deliveryman raised it to the proper height, adjusted everything, and let James test drive it. After he left, we took it to Publix to try it out.

Of course this left finding room in the garage for two large power chairs, so I put a call out on Facebook, and it turned out Maggi was looking for a new chair, as her old chair has been failing. Maggi's son is a whiz mechanic among other things, and they also know people who tinker with things like this. They are sure Jay can find a motor for it, or just buy a new one to replace the leaky one, and even be able to tighten up the loose joints and straighten the headrest. A little sandpaper and some paint on the scrapes from the accident and the poor thing may turn back into a swan again.

Even Tucker got a little TLC, although he resented it: I gave him a bath before cleaning out the hall bathroom. He always comes out looking fluffy and feeling better, but you'd never know it by the way he looks. The dying calf looks of the Dame aux Camélias aren't a patch on Tucker's reaction to a bath.

Labels: dogs, food, friends, health, illness, pets

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. . . . . noted and logged by Linda at 10:59:00 PM

Comments:

Rion, our Miniature Schnauzer is the same way about going to the groomer's. He looks like I am sending him off to his execution every time, but prances out of the groomer's with his tail up and waving like a flag. I am certain he feels better when he has been bathed and clipped, and, since he has a type of acne on his back, I am sure that feels better as well.

# posted by  FiveAcres : 8:32:00 AM

 

Tucker sits through a bath like a dog that has been abused and neglected for years. He exudes sorrow. He comes out like someone put caffeine in his water. Aren't they funny? Willow used to do the same thing. I remember the time James was in the hospital and the first thing he did when he got home was take a shower, because they wouldn't allow it there. Willow refused to be parted from him and sat in the bathroom while he showered, crying: "Daddy! It's a BATH! You're going to die! Don't die--you just got hooooooommmmmme!"

# posted by  Linda : 1:12:00 PM

 

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