I know that, according to my own, self-imposed schedule, I should have had a post composed and ready to publish today, about the letter
Just about the time the daily A to Z Challenge bloggers were posting their offerings for the letter E, I contracted a case of 48-hour flu. By the time I got back to the computer, it was too late to acquire a list of possible theme words. Between the virus-induced mental incapacitation and the lack of inspiration, nothing got written.
The situation was made worse by bureaucracy. One of the drive motors on the daughter’s power wheelchair seized, and Murphy worked overtime to ensure clerical catastrophe. What should have been a (bad enough) two weeks inconvenience, has become more than three months of dragged-on denial of service, before the Provincial disability office finally decided that it’s too expensive to repair a 13-year-old chair.
New rules say that, since she doesn’t need it all the time, she can’t have a new one. Now she has to break in a new case worker, and jump through all the hoops to find an acceptable handicap scooter, for which the Government will (eventually) pay monthly rent. Winter cabin fever was bad enough. Now, the nice summer weather is here, and she still can’t get outside and be independent.
Besides the afternoon-long, hour drive up the highway and back, for her anti-pain treatment, this means that I have taken her shopping several times, to the Farmers’ Market, twice to her dentist, once to the next city to pick up cheap, bulk, dog and cat food, and each week to a counselling forum which helps her deal with the physical and emotional problems of having her loving, supportive son 500 kilometers away.
Eighteen months after being told that the wait time would be 12 months, the wife was finally contacted by her orthopedic surgeon, (the same guy who installed my artificial shoulder ten years ago) and was told that her first knee replacement, the right, was a go. This required two trips to the hospital to fluff their paperwork. The first was a mere two hours, the second, an extended, four hour clerical comedy show. At least it’s finally going ahead. On June 27th, Hobble-Along Cassidy meets Dr. Stabby McStab-Stab in a dance to the death.
All of this means that, instead of having time to write my usual, knife-sharp, crystal-clear, diamond-hard posts which inform and entertain you, you are being afflicted with this whiny, apologetic, idiosyncratic, fogbank collection of Excuses, for my E contribution.
Thanx for your sympathy, and I hope to see you in a couple of weeks with something a little more solid, for the fabulous letter F.