Now I'm in limbo. My mother told me last night that Nana had a relapse and that the medical staff truly felt there was nothing else they could do. I made her promise to call me as soon as she heard something. No call. I call my sister - she hasn't heard anything, but she has the waiting room phone number. The waiting room has been a week-long wake/redneck party that Momma hates to have to witness, but there's been a steady stream of family camped out in there since Nana was readmitted. Today no one answers the phone in the waiting room. Thanks to HIPAA, I can't call the hospital and get her status, because there's no way to prove who I am over the phone, since I don't have the secret numeric code which will let the front desk know that I'm a family member. I cancelled a trip to visit my son in Atlanta because I don't know what's going on. And the phone in the waiting room just keeps ringing...
Like a bad penny.... We used to scuba dive as our hobby, a hobby which eventually led to the procurement/construction of a small dive trailer to haul four sets of gear and four cylinders. It was a simple but elegant design - a box on a single axle frame, with the beginnings of a mural painted on both sides, and dive flags at either end. The kids had helped paint it, with Stephen taking special pains with the sharks. When we moved to Nashville, we sold it. We didn't dive as often, and we had no place to store it. Nearly ten years have passed since that October in '99 when we came up here, and I hadn't thought much about the trailer. I thought I had seen it the last time we went to Greenfield, but I wasn't sure. Then Saturday my mother-in-law called to say the neighbor across the street had our trailer for sale. The neighbor was asking a certain price, and we offered a little less. She called back later to say it was ours for the picking up. Sunday we made the trip to fet...
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