Radiogurl a la Carte

Saturday, Mar. 05, 2005
The Not-Crying Game

Warning: full-blown rant ahead. Don't say I didn't warn you.

The hospital sent Boss home last night with a couple of prescriptions.

This speaks to the quality of our local health care system. Boss hasn't been able to swallow water (much less anything else) for at least two and possibly three days. They should have at LEAST given him an IV to rehydrate him before sending him home. That didn't happen. On top of that, the prescription was for pills. Hell-LO? If he can't swallow water, how the hell is he supposed to swallow PILLS???

He can't speak at all at this point, so said he's going to send a fax to his doctor. That's what the hospital told him to do. Which means nobody will see it until Monday at earliest. Umm... does anybody besides me see a problem with this picture when he's getting no water? You can only live 3-4 days without water, tops. It's already been at least two days, this is Saturday, and the doctor won't get a message until Monday. Either they skipped the part about malpractice and gross negligence in medical school or sombody needs to hit these people over the head with a clue.

I'm also allowing for another very real possibility. Boss may well have declined the IV. He seems fairly resigned at this point to the fact that he won't be alive for much longer. God knows that the man has very little to live for, at least by my way of thinking. You know, owning your own business is a good thing but in the end, it's a very poor substitute for a familiy, friends, a LIFE.

I'm working on the station billing today, hopefully to get this mess sorted through and get the worst of it out of the way this weekend.

Boss also told me this morning to overhaul our format. Again. Can you hear me screaming in frustration now? That alone will take hours and hours. And he still doesn't have anything handled in terms of our LAST reformat. I did the formatting to accommodate programming that was never created. Our new guy, who I've trained to do traffic, is growling along with me, because he's the one who has to manually resolve the holes where stuff isn't. Boss can literally not speak out loud but he strained to be sure I understood what he wants.

I don't know if this is the manifestation of Boss's Alzheimers, the last-gasp pretense of maintaining control, or his desire to make our lives miserable for months after he's gone, but when I go in today to reformat I'm killing the whole mess from last time around. If he doesn't like it he can fire me or he can fix it himself. I no longer care if he trashes the whole network, I'm tired of dealing with it.

Maybe I should be more sympathetic, but for goodness sake, this man is making it impossible to offer any sympathy.

He's given me directions for his will and such; I have to assume I'll also be responsible for making funeral arrangements, when the time comes. I get the impression that his family won't step in. Unless there's medical intervention or he's become an autotroph, it is literally a waiting game now.

Before - After

In the grander scheme of things, no soul can truly be replaced. Each one of us has a place in the universal tapestry. We each contribute our own color and texture. When one thread is snipped too soon, it distorts all the threads around it. Other lives can unravel and tear. If the wrong thread is ripped away, the whole fabric of life becomes dangerously fragile.
- LeiLani, aka Radiogurl aka Bright Opal (1957 - )