What a miserable weekend.

Saturday my father was not feeling very good, because somehow his blood pressure was low. That’s pretty much contrary to family history. We generally have problems with high blood pressure.

He sat and complained about his health for a while. Finally my niece, Jessica, who now has a doctorate degree in pharmacy stuff, said we needed to take him to the hospital to be checked out. So my sister, Rhonda, her daughter, Rebecca, and my mother took him to the emergency room Saturday night. I, being ignorant, stayed at home, out of everybody’s way. You can look at me and know I know little about healthcare.

Eventually they admitted my father to the hospital, and my mother spent the night there, worried about him.

Sunday I was my usual 30 minutes late for church. I came home and found myself all alone again. Shortly after noon, my mother came home to get some supplies for my father. She said he was upset that the doctor had not released him yet and wanted to make sure he had clothes whenever they let him go. As my mother was packing his stuff, she related a story about my nephew, Kevin, and his son. In the middle of the story, she grew quiet. She then passed out in our living room.

I panicked. I do good to spell EMS. So I did what I could to make her more comfortable, then I called Rhonda and Rebecca, hoping they would know what to do.

My mother regained consciousness, but did not have the energy to get up off the floor. I brought her a pillow and let her lie there.

Later, Rhonda, who works in a doctor’s office, and Rebecca, who has recently become a certified medical assistant, said it was good I did not try to move her, because I might have furthered her injury. That sounded better than my excuse, so I use their excuse as comfort.

Once Jessica found out what had happened, she advised I call EMS to take her to the hospital. I did, and the EMS workers came and safely got her to the hospital. Rhonda and Rebecca came and followed the EMS people to the emergency room. Again, being totally medically ignorant, I stayed at the house.

My father was by then feeling good enough to use the phone, so he called the house, wondering about his wallet, car keys and clothes.

His clothes I sent with Rhonda. His wallet had been accidentally washed with his pants, bringing new meaning to the term “laundering money.”

I could not find his keys, but I did find my mother’s set of keys, so he could use her door key to get into the house if he was released from the hospital Monday. I dropped the keys off Monday morning at the hospital.

My mother was not admitted, but she spent the night at my sister Rhonda’s house. I hope for an update on her soon.

Hopefully everyone will heal up soon and we will be back to being a normal, dysfunctional, family.