Showing posts from July, 2015

Notes from the Home - July 1, 2015

Good son that he is, Russ was at my door at six-ten Friday morning, ready to be his old man's chauffeur du jour. The time had come to have my Baclofen pump refilled, which involves a trip to the Emory Clinic in Atlanta, one hundred miles to the northeast. To make the  nine o'clock appointment we had to get on the road by the dawn's early light. The cool, overcast morning was ideal for rolling down the windows. And we rolled along merrily. The one traffic tie-up we encountered unsnarled moments after Russ' little, red Aveo arrived on the scene.
     Emory's rehabilitative medicine department is no longer in the hospital's main complex. Russ likes the new location, because it is right off the interstate and he doesn't have to navigate miles of surface streets to reach it.
     Maybe it is a sign of age, but the new place gets my vote because of the restroom, specifically the handicap stall. It is large enough that once I maneuver the wheelchair into it t…