Bloggerlife.blog

08/02/2025

Today’s blog 

Lynn Murphy Mark

When I was an old lady

This is a mixed blog because it involves someone I love getting hurt in an accident yesterday. For this I am asking for prayers for my friend who was injured on Highway 44. When the airbags deployed she suffered a broken nose and cuts to her face. She also broke a lumbar vertebra in her back, which was already a problem before the accident. The person she lives with called me to let me know which hospital they were at. And this is that friendship where there is no question – I was going to join them to be a support person and a nurse in disguise. This is a part of the agreement when friends are actually family.

 I grabbed a soft drink and headed down to my car. In this new car I have access to Onstar, which is a great version of a GPS. I pushed the button to summon the Onstar lady. When she came on I told her I needed directions to Saint Clare hospital in Fenton. At first she tried to steer me to hospitals that are close to my home, perhaps thinking that I needed help. My vigorous “NO” finally got her to identify Saint Clare’s location and send instructions. So, off I went. 

I found my way to the emergency room where some lovely nurses were stationed. I told them my friend’s name and they looked on their computer. “We don’t have anyone by that name.”, was the answer. Now, when my friend called to tell me she was at the hospital she told me they couldn’t find our friend at first. So I was set to do battle. I insisted that my friend was there. In the patient tone that one takes with old people, two nurses asked me if I knew that I was at Saint Clare hospital. “Of course I know that!”, said my indignant self. They advised me to call my friend and let one of them talk to her.

I patiently did as I was asked. I handed the phone to a nurse. Very quickly, she determined that Saint Clare was actually NOT the right place, that I needed to head to Mercy South. I had misheard my friend, or made up the destination because Saint Clare Hospital is where they usually go and it is near the accident site. The two nurses and the security guard gave me that kind, concerned look that comes before they take your keys away. 

Now, I used to work at Mercy South when it was known as Saint Anthony’s Medical Center. But because I was in unfamiliar territory, I called my Onstar friend again, who asked me if I was sure that I wanted directions to a different hospital since I was at one already. Honestly, by this time I was feeling like a slightly demented elder crone. Anyway, off I set for Mercy South. I was following directions until I saw an alternate, quicker route. I turned off on to Kennerly Road, which would take me straight to the hospital instead of getting back on the crowded highway. 

This irritated Ms. Onstar. Using her firmest, most polite tone, she kept advising me that I was off the planned route. By this time I was tired of being seen as an incompetent driver so rather than adjust the route I let her keep admonishing me. I had a conversation with her about how many times in my life I have gone off the planned route and lived to tell about it. She was not impressed.

Some 4,000 steps later I was led to my friend’s trauma room. It is a gut punch to see someone with facial damage. So, in the end, I’m asking again for prayers of healing. Today my job is to locate her car which was severely damaged, and to be available for whatever else is needed.