Very early morning. My stepdad cannot get up. He’s old. He’s dehydrated. We don’t really know what’s going on but it isn’t good. The EMT team consisted of a very professional young lady who was effortlessly in charge and a gent who accompanied her who didn’t inspire nearly as much confidence. There were things they could say and things they couldn’t say.
Soon he was in an ambulance heading to the hospital. Against their counsel that they would only become lost, I brought him out his hearing aids. She was yelling at him and he couldn’t hear and it seems as though I should help to afford him whatever dignity was possible. Only a few days ago he was fit as a fiddle.
When they called, we were informed that he had a very high amount of Babbelisa parasite in his blood. Akin to Lyme’s disease it was also transmitted by a tick but acted more like malaria. Untreated it could be fatal. We’d need different antibiotics and maybe something more. Maybe a blood transfusion which sounded like something only Keith Richards could afford.
All afternoon there was a strong summer rain that flooded the culverts and pounded the earth. There would be no need to water anything today. The plane tree I planted hasn’t been happy. Neither have the trembling aspens nor the “hair” bamboo. I don’t want the rain to end soon. Let it hit the ground hard and find its way down into the soil, moistening the dirt to resist the sun and remain for the needs of all the thirsty plants in this yard.
Tuesday, 6/23/20
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