Now hear this!

This Good Friday was eventful. Bubba was still on spring break, so in between some appointments we had fun with him.

Dahey and I had to get our taxes done. All went well except for the craziness when he had to work out of town last year. It's just fun when people make stupid mistakes and we end up paying taxes for one state when we're in another.  Eventually, my boss will figure out how to make sure my paycheck is correct, too. He/she should get docked, too, even though it's always resolved in my favor.

We owe money this year to everyone, but I'm not complaining. As our tax guy told us, if he calls, it means someone stole our identity and filed a return. Thankfully, we got no call.

After tax excitement, Dahey got his new hearing aids. While I don't work in audiology, I have to know the basics of hearing aids because it can cause issues in our clinics. Rehab nurses sometimes get enlisted to change batteries. (Another skill for my resume, I guess!) I even learned a few more tricks today, thanks to our lovely audiologist.

Dahey was amazed at what he was missing. Noise inside my car, wind, and birds made him look around in wonder. He goes back in a couple of weeks to get his remote ordered and to get more sound profiles set.

We finished the day off with Bubba at a local fish fry. He wouldn't have it any other way.

Stay tuned...

The greatest generation among us

Mr. N. was a character. From the moment the referral nurses talked about him, they weren't really sure if he'd even make it to the Hotel. He was old. He was sick. He was unconscious. He was deaf as a post without his hearing aids. He was as we say, "day to day."

He lived and for a while, Mr. N. inhabited a bright sunny room, where he had a good view of the construction going on nearby. Once he got his hearing aids, he talked. He was very opinionated, having worked for one utility, he had a pretty good idea what was going on outside his window.

In a way, Mr. N. reminded me of my father. He had the same ethnic look and the same blue eyes. He also had a gravelly voice of a man who smoked a few Chesterfields in his day. We talked about a number of things once we connected. I could always ask if it was really true what the guys said about his battle (the "no purple hearts" part).

Mr. N. even introduced me to his children. I got to meet all of them, including the bossy daughter ("she runs everything" he said). They were nice. They were amazed that their dad did as well as he did.

One day, Mr. N. came to see me, looking for change to get a soda. I didn't have any so I checked his chart.I realized he was not diabetic, so I offered him the soda Bubba made me take to work, in case I got snowed in.

His eyes brightened when he saw it. "Ooh!" he said. "The good stuff. Sierra Mist." He thanked me and rolled away down the hall for a cup of ice.

Mr. N. came by to see me when it was time to discharge. He said, "I hope to see you again. Thanks for everything." and winked. He left the next day to go to the nursing home.

We were told the other day that Mr. N's "bossy" daughter called. He had passed away in his sleep that day. His weak heart finally gave out. This week, with more than 500 others each day, he joined history. 

And I am thankful I have one more story about World War II to cherish, told by a man who made history in the Battle of the Bulge.