On Sunday, July 27, at roughly 9:30 am, my mom broke her right arm. She was going up a set of stairs, gripping onto the railing on either side of her. She lost her footing, spun around, and sat down on a square platform between two sets of stairs.
She landed safely. The problem was that she was still gripping on to both handrails. My dad and I were with her. We both heard her arm snap.
I called 911. She went to the hospital in an ambulance. I drove my dad up to the hospital. It has not been easy hanging out with my dad. He does not express himself well. He has anxiety. He lets out his feelings by yelling. He is also hard of hearing.
Everything that I do is not good enough for him. He said that I was driving slowly. Um, no. The paramedics need to get my mom checked in first. It doesn't make sense for me to break the sound barrier and try and be there before the ambulance.
My mom was in emergency. She got a makeshift cast after x-rays were done. The doctor said that she'd be back in a week's time. We got a call the following day to come in on Tuesday.
It's probably my main beef. Folks at the hospital aren't great at telling patients what is going on. They also use hospital jargon that does not make sense to a regular person like me.
I'll rant about these points later. I thought that I'd document things now before I forget.
