I guess I’ll go with the WTF-i-est WTF.  And believe me, I have plenty to choose from.

The biggest WTF was as I was just driving down the street after picking up my dear Cousin Alice, I get a phone call.  It’s my sister Karon. 

Our sister Linda went to physical therapy and now cannot move because of pain, and the PT folk want to call an ambulance.  So Karon is on her way to deal with Linda.

WTSF? 

Now, Linda has been having serious pain in her lower back, hip and right leg for the past 2 years.  Nobody has been able to diagnose the problem – but it has never been to the point where she is incapable of moving.

Fast forward to later in the day; we are well on our way to New Jersey.  Stop for lunch – and I get a text from Karon. 

Linda has a broken pelvis.

So the entire time we’re in New Jersey, the saga of Linda and her broken pelvis is also going on. 

Linda is the bionic grandma.  She has had both knees, both shoulders and her hip replaced.  Turns out her hip prosthesis is shedding micro metal and cement bits and her cells are unhappy about it.  Very unhappy.  It’s called particle disease.  Look it up. 

So now she needs a whole new hip replacement (called a “revision”); and nobody in our area will touch it, so they had to ship her down to the Detroit area to specialists – who have been arguing about how and when to do the surgery, and in the meantime, they shipped her back to our area to wait in a nursing home until her surgery can be done. 

I am angry at everyone over this cluster fuck.  I’m mad at the original surgeon (who 1 ½ years ago, told her there was nothing wrong with the prosthesis – apparently forgetting the fucking thing had been recalled by the manufacturer). I’m mad at the dithering surgeons in Detroit who are putting her on hold.  I’m mad at the fact that she doesn’t seem to have access to information she wants/needs about her own care. 

But I am so grateful that while I was away, Linda had family around her to act as her advocate; and I’m glad that I can now do my (little) bit and visit her and offer my (unsolicited and always plentiful) advice as I try to assuage my guilt.