First Post

Hey! Trying out this new blog to see if I can put banners and other advertising on the blog. I
look forward to finding out what I have available.

This is my second blog. I am still 54 years old and married to a wonderful gall named Sharline. We have one child between us and 5 all together. I have 2 sons from a previous marriage and Sharline has 2 girls.

The oldest child is Fawn. She is about 30 years old and has 3 wonderful little girls. Valeecia is aged 4 years and goes to pre-school. She just loves it! Victoria is 2 years old and would dearly love to go to school. She imitates her older sister just a wee bit. The youngest is about 10 weeks old and is named Viviana. She has 2 heart defects. A hole and a leak between the different valves. She is undergoing surgery soon.

Fawn was very sick last week. She was doubled over and complained of pain. She was taken to the hospital. That was not a good experience! The hospital was ran like a farm. The workers had their jobs and that was as far as their thinking would take them. They had all their assigned tasks and they were ticking them off, one by one, counting down toward the end of their shift.
This all sounds ok except, if I may be so outstandingly bold, this is not a chicken farm but a hospital. After getting released from the waiting room and admitted into another waiting room
called admitted - we again waited. Fawn was examined, by a male worker, who we think did not use proper discretion in his evaluation of Fawn. Their is a method whereby the woman does not have to be fully exposed. He later walked by her as she lay on the bed in the hallway and touched the tattoo on her ankle. What think ye?

Eventually Fawn began to complain bitterly of pain and was not able to lie down. She was doubled over and groaned. This girl was truly hurting. I spoke to one of the ladies in dark blue or black - probably LPN's - who were running the floor. The only thing that apparently got me was a reputation as a complainer and a potential problem. (Later I deliberately made myself a problem.) They did not help my daughter. We patiently waited. I began to think that perhaps the commission of a serious felony and a jail sentence of 10-20 years was in order, however,
I am a coward with one lung and chose not the felonious route.

Eventually we were given another room where we could wait until they saw fit, in their own suposedly professionally educated time-frame, to check on Fawn. Let me pause here, if I may,
just to interject than an idiot - you know like Rush Limbaugh or Tony Snow - or even you - could tell that Fawn Jones was in serious jeopardy. But not America's health-care system! Nope
not for the love of Pete (?) or ol' Saint Joe, no sirree, not our health-care pro's! So, partly out of an act, and partly out of anger I overacted a poorly scripted loudly verbal and eventually boring rebellion of discontent and unhappiness that I made sure all heard. I managed to do that without a single cuss word! Well - allright - I know I made God proud!

Finally a Physicians Assistant came in and conducted the coolest most professional interveiw one could ever ask for and prescribed a dose of pain medication for pain. Wow! Well it didnt take long for Fawn to see that it was an insufficient dose. So, we did it again. We had to do it once more but the third time it seemed as if someone understood that real pain medicine was required.

Friends it turned out that Fawn was dying. Yup! Just flat dying. That is the crux of it. The doctor 2 days later summed it up by saying that "Fawn you were a very, very sick girl."
I won't leave you in the dark reguarding this matter. No, instead and deliberately wordy, I will fill you in on the particular of the situtation. Her gall bladder was rotten. Rotten is an appropriate description. It was finished and it seemed to be in a hurry to finish Fawn. Well,
heck, why could they not have been more merciful earlier in the emergency room. Because they work the emergency room like a farm. And the farm hands are worn out and really just want to fulfill job responsibility more than give that extra bit of loving attention. Let me say to those workers:

You are working with people not animals. In the tradition of my favorite US President just imagine a swarth of expletive deleted. Good Day.