My pityparty is in session....

So last night we get a phone call from my mother who is busy having a hallucination that she's leaving on a trip (it's because of things like that she's moved from California to an assisted living facility a mile and a half away from us in Texas).

She's brought back to planet Earth by talking to me, the folks at the facility are notified, during a followup conversation I'm told she'll be seeing a doctor today. Terrific.

Today comes, the doctor has her sent to a local hospital because of an abcessed sore on her back (the War Department informs me if it's bad enough in an elderly person it'll cause hallucinations).

Turns out its the same hospital the WD works at, she even winds up on the same floor.

Thank God for small favors.

A few moments ago the WD calls and tells me to call my mother ASAP as she is getting ready to walk out the door of her hospital room. I do, convince her she has to stay and the crisis is averted. God must have wanted the WD in that place and time for a reason. I guess.

I'm heading off to bed. The WD is a real rock that I can rely on and the assisted living facility is top shelf. They don't teach you how to handle crap like this when it comes along though. Back in the canoe club we'd have sarcastically dubbed it "an opportunity to excel". Noted.

A Pentecostal pastor I once knew used to say that every nail wonders why it has to get hammered and keeps wondering until it sees the structure it's a part of.

Thanks for listening. G'nite.