For obvious reasons, after taking this photo a few years ago, I decided to call it “Alone In The Dark”. I had been cruising the neighborhood, taking photos of the local gardens and flowering shrubs, when a sweet gentleman asked me if I would like to see his fenced in garden in the back. Of course I would! So back we went, and even though the garden was in deep shade, some of the blooms stood out in sunny relief, and this is one of them. I should have worked with this at the time to show the bloom up better, since I don’t have the same technology on this computer that I had on the old one. But I failed to do so at the time, and missed my chance.
Maybe I should have called this post “Chances Almost Missed”, but I’m trying to remain positive about today. I may lose a friend tonight. She’s a lonely lady, misunderstood by so many people, and mistreated also. I went downstairs this morning and saw her sitting in the Activities Room, looking forlorn, sad, alone. When I went up to her she didn’t seem to notice I was there for several minutes, but I kept pressing until she seemed to become more alert. So I joined her and we began talking, with a couple of other people sitting at the same table. Annie has Type 2 diabetes that is extremely out of control, and a mouth full of teeth that have to come out. Infection is running rampant through her body, and she had a doctor’s appointment last Friday.
Today I found out the results of that appointment, and to say I am shocked at the medical profession in this town is putting it very mildly. I don’t know why I am shocked after my mis-treatment at our local hospital, but I had expected better of her personal physician. On Friday he took her off all of her medications, including her insulin. And then to put the signature on her death warrant, he told her she could have nothing to eat until after her dental visit one week later. When I went in there today, she was slipping into a diabetic coma in front of me, having gone 48 hours without medication, and without food. 48 hours with only water. And her doctor told her he would come by this week to see her, and pray with her, because he is also an ordained preacher. I’m wondering if he is also an authorized executioner.
We watched Annie slipping in and out of coma, and I grabbed my cell phone and called for an ambulance. They were here withing 2 minutes, but I am only praying they were here in time, and that the local hospital will have someone competent enough to bring her through this crises. Annie may not have the strength or the will to go on. Her mom died 2 weeks ago, so she may want to just let go also. I asked her before she slipped in too deeply if she wanted me to call for help, and she mumbled “yes”, but her body is filled with the infection that the doctor didn’t bother to treat, and 48 hours existing on water alone is almost too much for a body so weakened by physical, mental and health problems.
When they rolled the gurney out the door with Annie, no one knew what to say, how to act. Were we saying goodbye? Should we say “feel better soon”? All we could do was look at each other and talk in low voices, wondering if we would see her again, or if her doctor had indeed murdered her.