Your leaking thatched hut during the restoration of a pre-Enlightenment state.

 

Hello, my name is Judas Gutenberg and this is my blaag (pronounced as you would the vomit noise "hyroop-bleuach").



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   ambulance to Albany
Monday, September 11 2017
Gretchen called from Northern Dutchess Hospital this morning and she sounded like she was having a bad time, so I went over right away. She was doing better when I arrived, and she could even join me on a slow walk down the a hall into a newer, more crowded wing of the hospital. It may have looked nicer than Gretchen's dreary older wing, but she was glad to be away from the open doors with moaning patients. While I was there, Susan and David arrived. They were Gretchen's first visitors since three or four days of not wanting any visitors except for me. Of course, Susan and David know how to be hospital guests in a way that I just don't. They'd brought canned fruit and a "paw-written" get-well note from their dogs (with Olive's name "crossed out by Darla" and the word "BITCH" written in its place). They'd also tried to bring some technology so Gretchen could listen to podcasts and what not, though Gretchen has been so sick she hasn't wanted to "do" anything. (Also, the technology didn't seem to work.) I left a little before noon so I could put in a workday in the remote workplace.
Through the afternoon, it was slowly decided how Gretchen's case would proceed. It was looking like surgery would be necessary (to remove the inflamed fallopian tubes), but who would do the operation? Eventually an experienced gyn oncological surgeon was lined up, and initially it was looking like the operation would be happening at Vassar in Poughkeepsie as early as today. At that point, Gretchen's parents dropped everything and started driving north.
Later in the day, the hospital for the operation was changed to St. Peter's in Albany, and Gretchen was relocated there by ambulance. By this evening, her parents had arrived after a drive that (for some reason) had taken eight hours. Gretchen's initial take on St. Peters was that it was "ghetto," and not at all nice the way Northern Dutchess had been. She reported that either her nurse or her tech was a "tard," and it was also looking like she might be getting a roommate, which would make everything that much more miserable. On the plus side, though, it was looking like there was still a possibility that her fallopian tubes might be saved. An attempt would be made tomorrow to install drains, and if they proved effective, the antibiotics might be able to finish the job.


For linking purposes this article's URL is:
http://asecular.com/blog.php?170911

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