THERE WAS AN OLD WOMAN

Below: Recent photos of The Wild Child. She is no longer with Earl the Finest Pearl. She now lives alone with Scooter Bug, her small dog.

Wild Child's Chapter of the Thundering Horde
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The Wild Child has begun Blogging. It is good therapy for her to combat her dismal, depressive contemplations of her possible future. One of her blogs in progress is about her heroes.

In spite of her oneriness and occasional volcanic temper tantrums, the Wild Child is at heart an old softy and a romantic. She is deeply devoted to her heroes and they include Fire Fighters, Law Enforcement Officers, Military Personnel of all eras, people who have made great contributions to the betterment of society and everyday citizens who exhibit bravery and sacrifice for the good of others.

Military personnel are one of her favorites and she is fiercely supportive and protective of them. It doesn't matter to her if they are in active duty or if they are veterans. It doesn't matter if they were yardbirds scrubbing out garbage cans or if they were in combat on the front lines. All that matters to her is that they served. Every soldier, sailor, marine or fly-boy that took the oath and donned a uniform were there to do their duty in whatever capacity called for and were available for combat duty if necessary. In her eyes, every one is a hero.

This is the story of Papa Bear. He was the sweetie of the mother of two of her sweeties (yes, well, we won't go in to THAT soap opera right now). During her years of association with the family, she became very fond of Papa Bear and regarded him somewhat as a father-in-law. Papa Bear was rumored to have an Asian daughter somewhere, but other than that he had no known family. After he and the mother broke up, he was alone in the world.

Papa Bear was a veteran of the tail end of WW II (I think he flew B-52s), the Korean War, and the beginning of the Vietnam War when our military was sent over as "advisers". He had served his country through 3 wars/conflicts. She loved him like a father and held him in high regard as a veteran.

Papa Bear was stricken with Lou Gehrig's disease, gradually was forced to have others attend to his business and ofcourse was royally ripped off. He eventually ended up broke, dependent on income through SS and for physical care by outsiders. The Wild Child visited him often and became incensed at the shoddy care he received and how his so-called caregivers would steal the old man's money. She would put him in the bath tub, scrub his filthy body, clip his long toe-and fingernails, cut his hair. etc. , cook and feed him meals.

It wasn't long before she blew up, threw one of her volcanic temper tantrums that cowed Papa Bear's "care-givers", packed him up and took him home with her. She was a single mom of 2 young children and already having health problems of her own. She lived on a second floor walk-up and it was amazing to watch her haul Papa Bear in his wheelchair up the stairs - thump! thump! thump!- and Papa Bear jolting at every thump. She NEVER left him to lie abed all day nor go undressed. Every morning she would bathe and dress him completely in pants and shirt, thread his catheter through the pants fly and to the urine collection bag, and cover it with a lap robe. She put his early cup of coffee on his over-the-chair table and while she cooked his breakfast, one of the children would sit at his side and give him sips of coffee through a straw. Then she would spoon feed him his breakfast. She changed his diapers as gently and non-judgementally as she would have done for a baby. At all times she maintained his dignity and self respect.

Papa Bear loved to go places and to eat out. She brought him to my house many times where we'd park him in front of the TV and play movies and documentaries he loved about WWII and Korea. He especially loved documentaries about WWII planes. Once she took him to our family reunion in the Hill Country. He tried to tell her about the Edwards Plateau and the Aquifer but by then his speech was so garbled it was unintelligible. When she could afford it she would take him out to cafes or restaurants to eat, a great pleasure for him even though swallowing was becoming increasingly difficult. As a courtesy to other diners she'd get a corner table and place his back to the public; his eating habits were very sloppy in spite of her slow and careful spoon feeding. Now and then he would choke. She'd leap up, grab him in a headlock with one arm and ram her fingers down his throat to drag out the offending piece of food, the process accompanied by loud choking, gagging, slobbering sounds from him. Sometimes other diners turned green or got up and left.

But God help anyone's homesick a$$ that complained about the old man. They got an earfull from her that silenced any other comments. He enjoyed eating out, he was dying, she was determined to give him all the pleasures he wanted, and to hell with all those s.o.b.s that would be stuffing their faces long after he was gone.

She regularly took him to the VA Hospital for his checkups and endured the hours-long waits that entailed. Eventually the staff recommended hospitalizing him as his condition worsened, but he shook his head violently and pleaded with his eyes, so she refused. She said she'd keep him at home as long as possible. The tears of gratitude in his eyes were eloquent thanks enough. She did it out of love, not for thanks.

It was during one of the trips to the hospital when she nearly caused a riot at the VA. Houston's summers are very hot and the vast expanse of the VA parking lot was like a concrete oven. The Wild Child always stopped at the lobby entrance, went through the laborious process of getting Papa Bear out of the car and into his wheelchair, rolled him inside to air conditioned comfort with her young son at his side to watch over him. Then she'd go park the car and walk across the concrete oven herself. She would not subject him to that long, hot journey.

She followed this procedure on the Near-Riot Day. As she struggled to get Papa Bear out of the car, sweating and gasping with the heat and exertion, a young, officious Security Guard showed up and demanded she move her car. He announced it was a no parking zone. She retorted that she wasn't parked, just stopped to unload a patient and she would move it as soon as she got Papa Bear inside. He became very officious then and iterated his demand more sternly. Their exchanges were repeated several times as she continued trying to get Papa Bear settled in his wheelchair. The Security Guard did not know who he was messing with.

The Wild Child was a 5'1" blue eyed blonde, beginning to get a little plump with approaching middle age and deceptively sweet faced. Looks are deceiving and that Security Guard had no idea what Hell Fire lay hidden behind that innocent face and small frame. He quickly found out.
Papa Bear safely ensconced in his wheelchair, she turned on the Security Guard like a biting sow. Their dispute turned loud but she was louder. New arrivals stopped to watch and listen and some people from the lobby came out also. The confrontation attracted quite a crowd and angry mutterings and remarks were heard. Her grand finale was a scathing shout that "he's served his country through THREE wars, you little (censored), and you refuse him this? Have YOU ever served at all? You think enforcing a no parking zone reason enough to make him roll across all that way in the heat from the parking lot. Anyway, I'm not parked; I just stopped to unload a patient." etc, etc, etc. She was in full battle cry and in a fighting fury.

So was the crowd. The Security Guard began edging away and Wild Child followed him, still emitting enraged shouts. He walked faster and some of the crowd followed also, echoing Wild Child's complaints and accusations. The Security Guard fled. The enemy routed, Wild Child rolled Papa Bear into the lobby, parked him by a ficus tree with Dusty at his side, and then moved the car. The crowd milled around her, agreeing with every word she said and castigating a man who would treat a veteran that way.

The Wild Child was victorious. She has not won every battle but she has won most of those in which she has engaged. Even in the ones she lost, she got plenty of hamburger while they were getting steak.

She attended Papa Bear devotedly until 3 days before he died. He reached the point where swallowing was impossible so he needed intravenous feedings. Also, he needed oxygen and other medical aid. Both he and she wept when she had to put him in hospital. She went to visit him every day. He could not speak but she'd hold his hands and talk to him....and come home crying. On the third day he died. Since she was not a relative she had no legal status so the VA Hospital would not permit her to be involved with any death arrangements. He had no family and VA made all funeral arrangements. Only by throwing a wall eyed fit did she obtain the name of the mortuary.

The mortuary informed her that there would be no funeral, just a burial. She threw a bawling, squalling hysterical hissy fit accusing them and VA of "just going to take him out and bury him like an old dead dog!" She wailed and caterwauled until the funeral home made arrangements for a graveside service by the local VFW, complete with Military Chaplain, a 21 gun salute, and flag draped coffin. The service was attended by The Wild Child, her children, and 2 of her friends as the only mourners. But he got a funeral service! Dusty was presented with the flag from the coffin.

She can be as mean as a cross eyed snake but she has a tender, loving heart. Some people snidely accused her of doing what she did for his money. He had no money. His business had been robbed and allowed to deteriorate to nothing. He tried to get her to marry him so she could draw his Social Security as his widow when he died; she told him she didn't want his damned money, and besides, they'd have to be married 10 years or she have a child by him to get his benefits. (The law at that time; I don't know what it is now). His needs were numerous and great so his checks were spent on him. She did not benefit by taking care of him. In fact, often it cost her part of her small income . She took care of him because she loved the old man and she honored him as a veteran.

Info on Lou Gehrig's Disease (ALS)



COMMENTS:

I don't mean to argue, but what Dusty did, was a "badly needed course correction." Riots SHOULD start over such behaviors as that guard!The Religious know it all's will say Dusty's going to hell because of her past actions.So am I, and I'm proud to be separated from that trash.If I get there first, I'll save ya a window seat Hon....then together we'll kick the devils ass and shape things up!:)
# posted by The Future Was Yesterday : 8/18/2008 2:57 PM
(correction = Dusty is child; Wild Child was Riot Starter)

Labels: VA hospital - near riot - veterans