It’s been a long few weeks with my father being sick and recovering slowly, and dealing with my own personal and health issues while trying to keep a balance.
Yesterday I had planned on going to a marijuana patient/caregiver group by a knowledgeable doctor and friend but I needed to stay home in case Colleen (not real name), one of our live-in home health aides, needed help with transferring my father. I also had invited friends over after and still had them come, I needed some social time and thankful they came. We talked about current issues surrounding recreational and medical marijuana in Massachusetts, a couple called into a radio show to share information and opinion, and we relaxed and enjoyed our cannabis, nice evening.
Then Colleen came out and told me my dad was not right and the night changed to helping dad. I went in and he was altered, talking about not taking something away from him and when I asked him who I was he didn’t know, sometimes not responding then saying, I don’t know…FEAR. Was he having a stroke, 911. Colleen is with us and my friends are calm in front of house.
Now, years ago no one would have been calm in living room. Any marijuana on table would have been swept up immediately, possibly flushed down toilet, windows opened and leave before police and paramedics arrive.
A couple of years ago the police may have been asking for medical cards but we were all white, except Collen who is from Uganda but she was not part of our social cannabis gathering. I do wonder how things would have been different had I not been a middle-aged white woman coming out the door at the police officer…
When I stopped the first police officer before entering the house I said that the house smelled of marijuana and his response was, I could care less. Then he came in the house. No other talk of marijuana, paramedics arrive and attend to my father, background chatter of police and is about artwork hanging on walls, much of it done by one of my sisters.
I’m out explaining to my friends the situation, my father is being taken to nearest hospital in case of stroke when Colleen comes and says George remembers her and me. Yes, when I get back to my father and I ask him who I am he says his daughter Ellen. I feel some relief at that point but still could be stroke and off to hospital we go and my friends go as well.
Colleen drives me to the hospital because I had consumed a cannabis-infused treat and knew I shouldn’t drive. I also was tired, another time I won’t drive because I know it can impair my driving. Colleen is excellent driver, I am able to text others while she takes command of the road.
I am not a big fan of the hospital we go to, it’s the closest though and this night they win me over. They understand his doctors all are associated with another hospital and if he needs admission they would work to transfer him. I am grateful because they don’t have access to the other hospital’s medical records — WHAT? Had he gone to an a hospital associated with his normal hospital they would but another emergency room cannot access his vital medical records? All those electronic records that could help…
I could have accessed if I had my computer but unable to on my smartphone because site is not mobile friendly, great. But I am able to give the information necessary to treat my father appropriately and after a CT to rule out stroke and blood work and my father’s response to IV fluids it was clear the confusion was due to dehydration and after a second bag of fluids we were able to get transport and take him home. Colleen and I arrived home at 2am and George shortly after.
The emergency room nurses and doctor were very helpful and having Colleen with me great, she knows my dad well and can help interpret his cryptic comments at times, believe me with my dad that is needed, otherwise people think he is confused, I sometimes think so too so having someone else who knows him well like Colleen, or our other live-in aide, Kamali (not real name), is a god-send (said from an atheist to the two women who believe). Both are from Uganda and care for my father, they take their job seriously and worry about my dad and help me greatly. It took time to find the right live-in aides and we also have overnight aides so Colleen and Kamali get rest at night. My father is a wise man and one of his choices was buying a long-term home care insurance policy that you can’t buy anymore. It defrays most of the cost of his care. Something my generation and younger won’t see offered, most have restrictions and are costly…
I fear for Colleen and Kamali and immigrants like them who help in segments of society like here in Massachusetts being part of our health care industry as aides both in hospitals and home care. Most have good or excellent command of the English language, coming from countries colonized by the British. This allows them to fill lower-skilled jobs that require understanding English. A great void will appear if we lose them by closing our borders and making them feel un-welcomed. Colleen and Kamali, please know I want you here, that you are important to what makes america great, the inclusion of immigrant groups throughout United States history.
I spoke with Colleen this morning, she lives in fear these days, we don’t speak religion but I know one of her parents is Christian, the other Muslim. I’m sure that increases her fear. All she has to do is forget her purse, like in a situation last night, what if she had forgotten her purse in our haste to get to the emergency room and we happened to be stopped by law enforcement…first, she is black, one strike, two, she has an accent, second strike, three no license or documents, third strike she is out.
I think I understand white privilege a bit, I experienced some last night. Sure more can be pointed out but these are most primary.
- I had police officers show up at my home for 911 call and house smelled of marijuana yet they could care less.
- I felt no stigma attached to the fact I had been consuming cannabis and dealing with my father, I was given opportunity to show that I was able to give the information paramedics needed to evaluate my father.
- I don’t fear walking out the door without having proper identification if stopped by law enforcement.
Today, Colleen and I are sitting with my Dad who is doing better today. We are all exhausted after a long night but at this moment in time safe and sound. I’ve heard it’s about living in the moment and this moment I will take because 911 is on speed-dial.
Ellen Jane Moore 