Can You Hear Me Now?

Actual Date: October 3, 2010

If you are going to spend any amount of time with the elderly, you must understand the importance of hearing aids.


This is a picture of a hearing aid similar to the buzzing device that resides in my grandma's ear. The same device that threatened my sanity today.

It was pretty stressful when we checked into the hospital. You have to tell the same story to at least three thousand health care workers and then tell it to grandma another three thousand times to make sure she understands everything. Personally, I think grandma just kept asking us what was going on for entertainment. Hospitals are beyond boring. Anyway, the stress of the entire situation led to something more horrifying to an old person than anything on the face of the Earth. I was not present for the incident, but here is what I know.

Grandma's left hearing aid made a daring escape. Somehow, the little nugget wriggled out of her ear and landed on the floor. Just as it was rolling for the exit, my aunt took a step in the wrong direction and....CRUNCH. Goodbye, hearing aid.

Grandma is devastated, but luckily the right hearing aid was in place and working...until today.

I was having a great day. I had prepped some delicious crab cakes, ran a few miles and relaxed before my afternoon visit. I needed some me time after yesterday's drama. So I waltzed in to the hospital feeling good and ready to spend some quality time with her majesty.

I walked in to an inferno. Grandma keeps her hearing aids on at all times. As she says...she likes to hear everything. Do not think for a second that whispering a secret will get past this woman. She knows a lot more than she's letting on...I'm certain. Unfortunately, keeping your hearing aid in at all times causes the batteries to die exceptionally fast. In the haste of getting her into the hospital, no one thought "Hey, I guess I should grab some extra hearing aid batteries." No one thinks that. You're supposed to think "Oh shit, I have to go to the hospital now!!" So at this point, grandma has no functioning hearing aids. Crisis. Please alert the United Nations.

Grandma didn't seem to comprehend that we didn't have a fully supply of batteries on standby.

"I can't hear a thing! Where are the batteries?! Oh God, oh God....shit," she exclaimed. It's her usual repertoire for the imperfect situations we seem to find ourselves in constantly.

When this starts, I have two choices: start problem solving or drown myself in the commode. Well, she had just gone to the bathroom so I decided I should try to solve the problem.

I deploy Mimi to Publix in search of a hearing aid battery. There are literally no words to describe the drama that ensued. Between trying to figure out what kind of battery the hearing aid needs to calming grandma, I was starting to think drowning in the commode was probably the right decision all along.

Mimi prevailed and the hearing aid battery was successfully replaced. All was right in the world...and what did grandma have to say? "I have to go to the bathroom."

Desperate Measures

Actual Date: October 2, 2010

Grandma checked-in to the hospital yesterday for congestive heart failure and pneumonia. It sounds grim, but this stubborn Irish woman is not going down so easily. She's much better now and I'm sure we'll take her back to the nursing home soon, which means she'll also head home pretty soon.

Anyway, our new surroundings are pretty chic. Of course, a new environment also brings challenges.

The room is significantly larger; thereby, improving my quality of life. We also have a fabulous TV. Unfortunately, I can't seem to understand why the hospital only has 40 channels and my grandma's refusal to watch any of them. The quality of food has also increased and I'm confident I can identify everything on her plate. This matters not to my once ravenous patient as she now finds food to be quite the annoyance.

A wonderful plate of spaghetti arrived this evening. I worked hard to convince grandma it was worth a taste. And by working hard I mean I told her the doctor said if she didn't eat spaghetti and meatballs, he would purée it and send it through her veins intravenously. Whatever works, right?

Well, what failed to work was the fancy, three-story tray she is supposed to eat from. As I struggle to get the tray positioned to her majesty's standards, I'm barraged with verbal abuse.

"Oh dear God, help me. God, oh God, shit," she yells.

After enduring fifteen versions if the above repertoire, I was about to lose my shit. Not only was I proving incapable of handling a rolling tray, but I was also being screamed at as if I was a murderer from which she needed protection. It's a tray full of spaghetti and I'm a normal, capable adult, goddammit! I grab a to-go box filled with angel food cake, throw the cake away and fill the box with spaghetti.

"What do I do with this?!"

"You eat it," I explain in a voice teetering on the edge of madness.

Slowly she begins to eat. Meanwhile she's glaring at me and I begin to wonder if she has fastened some sort of prison shank in her bed.

She eats one box full of spaghetti and demands I remove the tray immediately. After determining it was safe to approach, I cleaned up and sat down. That is when I realized I had to pee.

I actually knew I had to pee about three hours earlier, but was so busy I seemed to have forgot. The situation was becoming dire and I decided to get up and search for a restroom. As I sped down the hall, I spotted my grandma's doctor.

We had been told he would stop in sometime that evening for an update. No one was in the room with my grandma and I was sure he was heading down the hall to see her. Now what do I do?! I can run to the bathroom and miss the doctor's evaluation, or run back to the room and pray I don't just pee my pants.

Weighing the pros and cons, I figured I'd probably get yelled at by my mom if I missed the evaluation and that was worse than peeing my pants, so I turned around and went back in the room. I sat back on the couch, crossed my legs and prayed.

"Where is this guy?!" I think to myself. "I just saw him in the hall...there's only a few rooms in this unit...he's got to be here soon."

A five minute wait turns into ten minutes. I decide to hunt him down. Just as I exit my grandma's room, I see Dr. Bald Dude on the computer.

"OK...he's probably reviewing her chart. No big deal. I can wait five more minutes...I think..."

Another ten minutes passes and Bald, M.D. is no where in sight. I'm wiggling like a maniac to keep myself from peeing. If he had come in at this point, I'm sure I would have been admitted to the psych ward.

Five more minutes....I could actually feel my belly bloating...I was literally on the verge of peeing my pants. Again, here I am...an otherwise normally functioning adult about to lose my shit (or piss) in this hospital. Get it together!

Suddenly, there's a rustling at the door and I see my aunt struggling to put on her MRSA gown (you have to wear this silly yellow gown in the hospital until grandma is cleared for MRSA...big pain in the ass if you ask me).

Adrenalin rushed through me like never before as I sprinted past her screaming something to the effect of "BATHROOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!"

I had never been so happy to see my aunt....and the doctor....well, he didn't show up that night.