Here’s how my day started.
I ususally work from home on Wednesday. The eldest likes when his Mom drops him off at preschool, so K left around 8:00. Not two minutes after she left her grandmother calls.
“Hi, L. How are you?”
“I think Granddad’s had a stroke.”
Of course, our number is the first one that comes to mind. She told me the symptoms (lack of responsiveness, among others). I told her to hang up and dial 911; we’d handle everything else after the paramedics were on the way.
We’re 20 minutes away; their daughter (K’s mother) lives 3 1/2 hours away; their son lives in the S.F. Bay area. K’s sister lives 7 hours away. In other words, we’re the family first responders.
So now I’m in the ER waiting room with our youngest while K visits her grandfather and grandmother (and makes sure someone in the family has a firm grasp on diagnosis and prognosis). Gotta tell ya, the waiting room isn’t nearly as exciting as the side VG works on.
Whelp, looks like it’s just pneumonia; the symptoms we all thought pointed to stroke were, according to the medical professionals involved, the result of severe dehydration. Granddad stays overnight, on an IV drip of antibiotics, and the latest family crisis is averted.