Okay, so yesterday kind'a sucked. I went to get my OM out of the rehab home to take him to the dentist. We got there in plenty of time. I was planning on paying for it all with my card. As we were waiting to go in, I got a text message from my bank asking whether I was making three $100 purchases in a row at a Dunkin Donuts in Georgia. Uh....NOPE. I had to immediately cancel my card. I showed the receptionist the text message and told her what happened and I would have to go to the bank in person and bring her cash. No problem. On the way, take my OM to the oral surgeon for two extractions. Cool.
Well. I no sooner pull up in front of the oral surgeon's office and the fuel pump went out. Some genius at Ford decided the best place for the fuel pump is inside the gas tank...which I had just filled not three hours and 45 miles ago. So. Now, I have a guy with a walker who will have to go about five miles away to his room, a dead car blocking the entrance to the oral surgeon's office, no money to pay for the extractions, forget about the dentist who referred him, no way to go get money and no way to get home, 35 miles away. And it's in the low 20s, expected to drop into the low teens.
Okay, gotta set up priorities.
First priority is get my old guy back to the rehab facility. Called the facility and they have a van they can send for him. Good. Done.
In the mean time, a friend of the family came and gave a definitive diagnosis on the car. He has a buddy whose shop he does side work in about three blocks from where I was. He arranged a tow (another funny story) and, finding out what had happened with my card, ran me to the bank so I could draw enough money out to pay for the tow, pay him for parts and labor and pay the oral surgeon because Medicare doesn't pay for extractions, even if the rotten tooth is causing sepsis.
Second, Third and Fourth priorities nailed: Pay the oral surgeon, deal with the stupid car and pay the guy who's going to fix said stupid car.
Finally, find a way to get me home. So, I call my go-to gal, Madeline and ask if she can come get me. She can't because there's a nail in her tire and the tire shop is closed.
(Are you laughing yet?)
About that time, another good family friend called who works in Spokane but lives in Idaho to see what all's been going on with me and how my ol man is doing. Well! Where would you like me to start? He offered to take me home, which I would have been an idiot to refuse.
So. Over the course of the next half hour, my ol' fella was picked up and taken to his temporary digs with enough gauze in his mouth to make him look like a sqirrel, the tow truck arrived to pick up the car (another comedy of WTF could possibly go wrong: The chain hook kept falling off the right side as soon as some tension was put on the line...but I forgave the poor guy because he's a recovering CRST driver...) and my other friend showed up to take me home.
Mission Accomplished!
