A Change in Plans

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I am slowly checking off the items on my mental do-this-after-From-Adam-to-Us-goes-to-the-printer list. Ray and I have definitely slowed down in the days after that deadline, but “slowed down” hasn’t come close to slow — not yet.

Last week was packed with miscellaneous and out-of-the-ordinary things I needed to do for Notgrass History. Ray and I decided to plan a nothing-but-fun-getaway for Thursday through Saturday anyway. The miscellaneous and out-of-the-ordinary things spilled over into Thursday and it was 3:00 PM before we headed out the door.

Our plan was to drop Mother off for a visit at the assisted living in my hometown which is two hours away to the west, and then head south for the three and a half hour drive to our destination.

One of my miscellaneous projects this week involved some equipment we ordered a month ago, part of which has still not come in. We have been promised that it will arrive on Monday, the day we absolutely have to have it, but the track record of this company has been terrible so far. Ray and I decided not to risk it; we decided to stop in Nashville to purchase what we needed at a brick and mortar store, just in case. The store was to close at 5:30, so we had about a 45 minute window of flexibility.

When we got to the Interstate, traffic was backed up on both the overpass and the entrance ramp. We turned around to go back to the two-lane highway that parallels the Interstate, while I talked to a salesman in the store who promised he would have it at the check-out ready for us.

We rode merrily along for several miles on the two-lane state highway until we saw a sign: DETOUR-Bridge Closed.

Of course, we took the detour. Several miles later, after a drive through the countryside and through a tiny town, we arrived at the Interstate. At 5:00 PM, we arrived at the store.

Mother was supposed to be at her destination between 6:00 and 6:30. At 6:17, we walked into a fast food restaurant for a quick supper–not the sit-down healthy dinner we had hoped for. It was the second day on the job for our order-taker. Needless to say, it was not fast food.

Near 7:00 PM, we arrived at Mother’s destination. We had a pleasant and quick check-in and walked with her to her room with the night nurse. Just before we left, I decided to peek in her medication bag to make sure all was as it should be.

Uh-oh. One of her medications comes in a box of bubble packed pills which does not fit easily in her medication bag. Therefore, I only put a few sheets in at a time. I had not thought to look before we left home to see how many sheets were inside. This is a blood thinner that she cannot miss. She was exactly two pills short.

We assured Mother that we would make sure she had all the pills she needed and said goodbye. Once outside, I made a quick call to the only pharmacy in her little town that was still open. They could only sell a whole box and she probably had too many on hand for her insurance to pay. I already knew that this medication is super expensive without insurance.

At 7:30 PM, we started back toward our house. At 9:20 we pulled into our driveway. At 11:30 PM, we got back to my hometown where we handed off the entire box of pills to the night nurse — we made sure Mother wouldn’t be short this time. Forty-five minutes later, we pulled into a hotel and were still more than three hours away from our destination. When Ray got out of the car to check in, I noticed that he went to the front of the car and looked at the headlights. One was out.

I confess to being pretty perturbed for about fifteen minutes after my call to the pharmacy. It is hard to believe that red tape prevents an elderly woman from buying two pills to tide her over in an emergency. Of course, I apologized profusely to Ray. Of course, during the drive home, I relived again and again the moment I had reached into the closet just before 3:00 PM and pulled down the medicine bag on its perch right beside that box of medicine. I lamented that I didn’t think to unzip the bag then, instead of in Mother’s apartment at assisted living. But for almost all of the four hours and forty-five minutes of our predicament, Ray and I were content that what we had to do was simply to do what we had to do.

Time was when that would not have been the most congenial four hours and forty-five minutes of our lives together. It has taken all of our forty-one years together with all their ups and downs to change that. I tell you this to offer you hope. Hang in there together and hang in there through every trial — the little ones like the ones we had on Thursday and the ones you just don’t think you can make it through.

On Friday morning, we got our headlight repaired and began our journey — again. By then, there was no way we could do exactly what we had planned for the day, so Ray suggested a great mid-day alternative — our favorite tearoom . . .

 

. . . and then we made it to where we had planned to go that day–not at 10:00 AM, but at 5:00 PM!

We had a wonderful time away, in spite of its challenging beginning — and its challenging end. As we sat in traffic on a busy street on Saturday afternoon before getting back on the Interstate to start toward home, a taxi driver cut too close and smashed our left side mirror.

As I drove the last leg of our journey, I noticed blue lights in my rear view mirror. I knew I had not dimmed my lights quite fast enough when I had met an oncoming car a few minutes before, but I didn’t notice that the car belonged to a state trooper, and though I knew that it was very important to dim your lights and I always try to do so (on the rare occasions when I am driving with my bright lights on), I did not know it was illegal to fail to do so. Needless to say, I was quite apologetic, and then I was grateful that he let me off with a warning.

As it turns out, it was a good thing we took the whole box of medicine, because wintry weather prevented us from picking up Mother yesterday as planned. Turns out it was a good thing she had extra medicine, after all. We expect to pick her up this afternoon. Ah, never a dull moment around the Notgrass House — or in the Notgrass car either.

So do not worry about tomorrow;
for tomorrow will care for itself.
Each day has enough trouble of its own.
Matthew 6:34

 

 

 

 

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