Medical mofos

“Like my leg of lamb?”
Healthcare in the United States is seriously fucked up. No one can afford it, and the care you do get is usually horribly substandard.
Dad’s bandages had soaked up so much blood overnight that his lower leg did resemble a piece of meat.
And the homecare company – FirstChoice – decided not to show up on Saturday.
Dad called.
The nursing supervisor called back.
Dad let her have it, only very subtly. He never raised his voice, he didn’t argue. He just kept talking over this woman.
It was a master-stroke of guilt. I even felt bad, and I was just listening.
“We’ll just let (the doctor) hash everything out,” dad said as a last statement, as you could hear the nursing supervisor try to explain. “Thank you, thanks for nothing. Bye.”
And he hung up on her.
“Looks like you’ll need to change the bandage.”
Which I am happy to do. Anal-retentive behavior always leads to doing a job well.
That sucker is wrapped extremely well.
But the hematoma is swelled with blood and fluid.
“I don’t think that’s going to last a whole day,” I said.
“We’ll see,” dad said. “You can always change it again later.”
I’m going to have to get some of the fluid out. And what I’d like is FirstChoice to come out with a big needle and drain it that way. I’d rather not have to squeeze dad’s leg like a pimple.
“That’s OK, I’ll just take some pain pills before you do it,” he said.
Bleh. Save a Vicodin for me.