Dakki on a healthy day
In the last post, I mentioned that I had postponed the
trimming of the auntly toenails. I
made a date to have lunch and give a pedicure (of sorts) to my Aunt Pauline,
and then planned to go to Dakki’s house and help her with a recalcitrant fingernail. As Pauline and I sipped our tomato
soup, she mentioned that Dakki, whom I had tried to telephone earlier, had ….
well, the trots. This always seems
like a somewhat humorous ailment to those who are not suffering from it, but in
a nonagenarian, it can be fatal. And rather quickly, I might add. So, true to form, I was horrified. I called Dakki, and got no answer. I called about ten more times, and
still got new answer. I have a key
to her house, but it is passé, as in true paranoiac tradition, she keeps getting
her locks changed, and her house is like Fort Knox. I called a few more times, cycled home, and then went to
bang on her door and lean on her doorbell. No response.
Her car was there and she had not collected the mail from her mailbox. What to do????? She has one neighbor,
her particular friend, whom she frequently visits. I checked with them, but she was not there, and I managed
to get them all agitated too.
Finally, standing on her porch, I called 911, telling the dispatcher
about Dakkis personal details, including her age and the trots, and that they
would have to break in. Wow! I was still talking to the dispatcher
when I heard the sirens. She said, “I can hear the sirens. They’ll be there in no time.” And they were. Two handsome firemen arrived and said that a police person
who would do the breaking in was to follow. One of the firemen cleverly checked Dakki’s windows and
found one (unlike those at Fort Know) that he could get open, so we all hoisted him in. “Does she have a gun?” he anxiously
asked. “I’m afraid so,” I
replied. He got a slightly worried
look. “Virginia, Virginia,” he
shouted, “We’re here to help you.”
No response. He let the
neighbor, also a nurse, and me in, and asked where Dakki slept. I pointed to her bedroom. He entered and got an even more
horrified look on his face, signaling us not to enter. My stomach sank. “Virginia, Virginia,” he shouted a few
more times. Then I heard,
“Grrrrrr! Growl! What the hell’s going on
here! What’s happening?” My stomach returned to where it should
be. I rushed into the room, as she
was just struggling to be awake (a daily battle for both of us,) and I burst
into humiliating tears. Just like
those children who got puppies.
She seemed shocked to find five folks in her bedroom – the handsome police woman
had arrived by this time, and had joined the crowd.
Later the police woman told me that she was upset to see Dakki’s
address on her screen (or wherever it appears,) because she had answered so many
calls from Dakki that she knew the address, (why am I not surprised about this,)
and knew her well. I could tell
that she was a one of the many Dakki fans, and would have been sad to lose such
a good customer.
Dakki receiving urgent care
The next morning Dakki was still ailing, so I took her to the
Urgent Care, where she got some IV fluids, and amused the cute nurse. She seems to have a thing for handsome
young nurses. He thought she was pretty cute too. How do I know this? He said so.
(As you can see in the photos, Dakki is very pale, so the fireman can be forgiven his mistake. She is one of those folks with a cadaverous look even when quite lively.)
7 comments:
I am so glad that she is feeling better, what a great response from Seattle's finest!
Oh wow. So glad she's ok!!
So happy she is doing better.
Dakki is very fortunate to have you caring for her.
Aunties must be adored and cherished by nieces and vice versa.
I'm glad she is OK! That is a hilarious accounting of it too.
A loving niece is a treasure!
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