ER

True to my prediction, Dad and I went to the hospital yesterday. For a 12 hour tour. He has been poked, prodded, X rayed, CAT scanned, the whole bit. No broken ribs, no internal bleeding, but he's very anemic, and that worries the medicos.

Thusly, Big Daddy is now a patient in the hospital. The medicos are going to stick him and poke him a little more, and hopefully find out WHAT is going on to make him so anemic. The VA has him on, no shit, at least 10 kinds of meds a day, which seems a tad excessive to me. As well as all the doctors and nurses that saw him yesterday.

Dad, being the piece of work that he is wasn't a happy camper yesterday, but he hurt more than he was annoyed. I guess it's standard procedure to send a social worker around to be properly sympathetic, and to find out if the patient needs anything. Pop has a serious hangup with social workers. His last ex-wife is a social worker. She was truly evil to him, so it's tainted the profession as far as he's concerned. She did her thing, clucked sympathetically about his plight, questioned him as to whether or not he had a support system ("Oh hell yeah, I thought, more good ole boys than you've ever met in your life, lady...") and after she left, he shot her the bird. I love my Dad.

So now, we're waiting. Stay tuned. There was plenty more to blog about yesterday, but my brain is so fried right now, I'm happy I remembered how to make coffee this morning.....

Carry on.