Here’s a picture someone took of me at my mother’s funeral in February 2011.
This is the day in the year I get REALLY lazy – way lazier even than Ask Roger Anything, which will happen again soon enough – when I write almost nothing for my birthday. Continue reading Roger is 61→
For her 12th birthday, my sister Leslie received her own guitar. With some assistance from my father, a largely self-taught player, she became quite competent with it in about a month. And that really became the birth of the Green Family Singers, when the three of us used to sing around Binghamton, NY together from 1966 to 1971. The program initially was a variation of what my father had been singing by himself. We would sing harmony on some choruses or responses, for instance, though there were a number of pieces that were three-part harmony throughout.
When we last saw our intrepid little family, the father of the household was getting a ride home from his overnight hospital stay Friday afternoon by his lovely wife. Saturday, he was still exhausted; he didn’t sleep well Thursday night, and Friday night’s rest was insufficient. He muddled through Saturday, doing a minimum of vacuuming and dish washing, and not much else.
Even Sunday morning, there was a sense of fatigue within him. But since almost everyone knew about the hospital incident, he wanted to show up to prove he was still among the living. Fortunately, all the songs the choir sang he had performed before.
At the coffee hour, somehow the Daughter had gotten permission (not from her father) to eat some coffee cake, despite being unclear about its origins. Apparently it’s one of those items that had that warning that it may be processed in a plant that used peanuts or nuts. She is allergic to peanuts, and peanuts and nuts are often processed in the same place.
Shortly after consuming it, she got every upset. Was it a belated sense of fear? Her father took her into a quiet room and tried to calm her down. She was OK for a bit, but by the time she got home, she had a stomachache, and eventually upchucked. This was actually a good thing; the first time she had an allergic reaction, when she was three, that was how her body responded. So the family thought it was in the clear.
A couple hours later, the Wife noticed, above the knees and below the neck hives over about 30% of The Daughter’s body. It itched greatly. After a call to the pediatrician, another trek to the E.R.
It’s much less busy Thursday at 8:40 a.m. than Sunday at 5:30 p.m. She got some Benedryl, stronger than the OTC we had given her. Then the family stopped at the McDonalds; the Wife seems to believe going inside is faster, an unproven premise, but staying in the car would have meant avoiding the most rude, vulgar-language customer; “Where’s my f@#$ing food?” , more than once, among other things.
The Daughter was asleep by the time the family got home. she got through dinner then was practically carried to bed; the Wife stayed home with her on Monday.
The lesson relearned – no food where peanuts or nuts are processed. I hadn’t heard the rule had changed…
That evening,there was an ambulance in front of our house. It was actually called for our next door neighbor’s house. The father of one of the college kids had been drinking a couple bottles of beer with the guy when he was having some difficulties – I didn’t get the details. Turns out e had food poisoning; glad it wasn’t worse.
Back in 2004, I was having some chest pains, though not on the left side, where my heart is located. Still, I called my primary care physician’s office, and her office suggested I go to St. Peter’s Hospital and get it checked out. I don’t much remember the details, except that I spent about eight hours there before I went home.
Thursday, April 11, I’m getting the Daughter ready for school when I felt a real tightness on the upper right side of my chest; had it been on the other side, I would have thought it was a heart attack and would have called 911. Still, it was most uncomfortable, and I wasn’t doing anything more strenuous than clearing the breakfast dishes. Using the previous advice, I took the bus to St. Peter’s Hospital; it was a straight shot from my house, a little more than a mile away. I COULD have walked there, actually, especially in the time I waited for the ride, but I just wasn’t feeling up to it.