Hilda’s Cruise nosleep

My mother-in-law, Hilda, moved in with us two years ago when Elmer, her husband, died of prostate cancer. We put her in Janie’s old bedroom where we had planned to set up a hobby room for my wife, Shirley, so she could work on her jewelry projects. At first, Hilda was very grateful we let her come live with us, and was frankly no trouble at all, in spite of her many ailments which required that she take close to fifteen medications every day. She helped in the kitchen and on those days when her arthritis wasn’t confining her to bed she always made sure Shirley’s precious potted plants got watered. From time to time she even insisted on kicking in money towards our utility bills, even though we didn’t really need the money. As time went on, though, she became increasingly irascible and even truculent as her health deteriorated. At first, her demands were comparatively minor: we had to paint her room a hideous green; she wanted her own flatscreen TV; we had to buy her a refrigerator so she could keep her favorite chocolate ice cream next to her bed, and the like. Then she started making demands we couldn’t afford, like a $4,200 walk-in bathtub, Shirley and I could no longer watch Fox News, no more of my favorite music in the house and I was no longer allowed to smoke cigars, even out in the back yard. Shirley backed her on the cigar ban so I did give them up, but I refused to accede to her demand that we get rid of Roxie, our Border Collie, and no way was I going to spend over four grand on a walk-in tub. Her presence under my roof became really unpleasant the day she turned 78, when she started criticizing Shirley for marrying me. At that point I asked my wife whether it wouldn’t be better for her mother to move to a board and care home. Serendipitously, that very same day the flier from Planned Golden Years arrived in the mail. They were offering deeply discounted cruises for seniors. Shirley asked her whether she’d like to go on a cruise and she said yes, as long as I wouldn’t be coming along, which was certainly fine with me. Shirley told her we couldn’t come in any case because the cruise was only for people 70 and over. Before they would accept her we both had to fill out a questionnaire. I thought the questions were rather intrusive, such as the one where they asked me if I got along well with Hilda. She had just been ragging on me about something, so that’s probably the reason I wrote down that I’d be glad to get her out of the house and frankly out of my life for a couple of weeks. In the end, Hilda said yes to the cruise and was even cordial to me during the two-hour drive down to Los Angeles harbor. We didn’t go on board with her--they didn’t permit non-cruisers on board--but the ship looked quite beautiful from the outside. She was operated by a Medicare contractor called Planned Golden Years and we were amazed at how little it cost. We didn’t understand why 80% of the cost of the ticket was being picked up by the Social Security and Medicare administrations, but this gave us a comforting feeling that Hilda would be in good hands during the 18 day cruise down the west coast of Mexico. The PGY brochure said there were abundant medical facilities on board, physicians on duty at all times and she didn’t even have to bring her prescription meds with her; they would provide her with everything she needed at no at no additional charge. We also noted the doctors were all from the U.S. Public Health Service, and I even groused to Shirley about how outrageous it was we taxpayers were subsidizing everyone on the cruise. When she reminded me the taxpayer subsidy was saving us $2,400 off Hilda’s ticket I shut up. Plus, Planned Golden Years had a cheerful website where we could log on each day and communicate via email with the male nurse, Raul, who was tasked with keeping an eye on Hilda and tending to all her needs. The first day out Raul informed us that the doctors had already weaned Hilda from her blood pressure medicine. This alarmed Shirley so much that she demanded to speak with her mother. Raul said this wasn’t permitted. Three days later our phone rang and Hilda was on the other end. Seems one of the other passengers had smuggled on a cell phone, which was strictly forbidden, according to the PGY brochure. She said she was having a good enough time, the sea was calm, she had a reasonably good bridge partner, but the headaches she had been experiencing before her cardiologist put her on the two blood pressure pills had come back. Day 4. We got an email from Raul saying the doctors had decided to stop Hilda’s twice-daily insulin injections. When we pressed him for the reason, he admitted that the ship’s pharmacy didn’t stock insulin, but that all diabetics on board were in fact doing very well without it. Day 5. Hilda called and told Shirley that Doreen, the lady who smuggled the cell phone on board, had just died in the sick bay, and that she—Hilda—had taken the phone out of her purse the night before when Doreen collapsed during a visit to her cabin. Hilda said her head was pounding with pain, just as it had when she suddenly developed pernicious hypertension six years ago. She demanded that Raul take her blood pressure. It was 310 over 190. Raul said it was nothing to be concerned about, but that he’d get her some Motrin for the pain. Day 6. Shirley is worried about her mom’s latest phone call. They’ve stopped giving her the Coumadin she was taking to keep from throwing clots caused by her atrial fibrillation. Shirley thereupon emailed Raul. He asked how we knew her mom had been taken off the Coumadin. Without answering his question she kept pushing him about the anti-clotting drug. He said the threat of clots from atrial fib was way overblown, and that nobody on the cruise was getting a blood thinner. Day 7. Hilda calls in a panic. I try to talk to her but she doesn’t want to speak to me, just Shirley. She told her that her toes were turning black and her feet were getting numb, but the doctor had said that was normal for someone with diabetes who had stopped taking insulin. Day 8. Another panic call from my mother-in-law. Two ladies from her bridge table died overnight. The crew was giving out no details. Hilda has been moved to another bridge table to replace Nancy who, in spite of being wheelchair-bound because of her multiple sclerosis, had fallen overboard. At least that was the story. The ladies were surprised at this because there were no openings in the deck railings, and Nancy couldn’t walk. We want to email Raul and ask about all this, but we don’t because then he’ll know Hilda has access to a phone. Day 9. Hilda calls to say it’s getting harder and harder for her to see without her glaucoma drops, but the real reason she’s calling is that at meal time, half the tables are now empty, and people she’s gotten to know are now nowhere to be seen. Day 10, midnight. Evalina, the lady in the cabin directly across the hall from Hilda, fell over a bucket in the hallway, breaking her hip. The doctors told her she should just stay in bed until the ship got back to home port because there were no facilities on board to surgically treat her hip. Her pain is so intense that Raul has her heavily sedated. Hilda visited Evalina an hour ago but she seemed comatose. When she touched her hand, it felt cold. Stone cold. Day 11. Evalina’s cabin is empty. Raul said she died during the night. Day 12. At lunch today, the only meal all passengers have to eat in the dining room, more than half the chairs are empty. Same with the number of passengers strolling the decks or sitting in the lounge. Day 13. All passengers are told to remain in their cabins between 2 p.m. and 3 p.m. Hilda’s new friend, Mabel, snuck out of her cabin and just happened to look down at a ceremony on the aft deck. The crew is throwing long, white bags over the stern rail into the ship’s wake. Mabel thinks she’s counted at least 20 bags being dumped, but she’s not completely sure, and she was only looking on for 15 minutes or so. We email Raul after Hilda hangs up to ask what’s new with her and the cruise. He says she’s doing great and all the passengers are having a marvelous time. Day 15. Hilda calls in a panic. Yesterday Edgar just down the passageway was lying on his bed screaming in pain. He said he was trying to pass a kidney stone, judging from the pain. Several passengers were in his room trying to comfort him, he frantically pushing the call button. Raul finally came with his black bag, and told him there were no facilities on board to treat kidney stones. Raul gave him a shot of morphine. Today, when Hilda hobbled down the passageway to check on him, his bed was made and the cabin was tidy, as if there had never been an occupant. She asked Raul where Edgar was. Raul answered, “Edgar who?” Hilda told him, “You know, Edgar, who was lying in that bed yesterday.” Raul replied that the cabin had been unoccupied since they left Los Angeles. Day 16. Shirley is on the speakerphone with her mom when she hears a banging in the background and someone yelling, “Open up. Open this door. Right now!” She asks, “Mom, what’s going on?” “It’s Raul. I think he’s found out from one of the other passengers that I’ve got a phone. He’s trying to get in here, but I’m not going to let him in. There’s something fishy about that man. He reminds me of your husband.” I wince at this. The cruise hasn’t mellowed the old bat at all. Then we hear a crash and a man’s voice. We assume it’s Raul. “Give me that phone. You know the rules. No phones allowed.” Then he comes on the line and growls, “Who’s this?” “This is Shirley Miller, Hilda’s mother. What in God’s name are you doing to her?” The person on the other end slams the phone to the floor, but this does not disable it. We hear the voice say, “You’ve broken the rules, Hilda, and if we don’t enforce the rules we’ll have total anarchy on this ship. Now, I can see that the phone call agitated you, and this is not good for your blood pressure. Here, just lie back on your pillow and I’ll give you a sedative.” We hear Hilda scream, “I don’t want a shot. I just want some medical attention. My head feels like it’s going to explode, my whole body aches, I can hardly walk, I haven’t had a bowel movement in five days and I can barely see. Can’t you tell I need help?” Her voice trails off and the phone suddenly goes dead. We immediately email Raul but he doesn’t respond. Shirley is in a total panic and starts to call the phone number on the PGY brochure. Her hand is shaking so much she’s unable to push the correct keys. I take the handset from her and punch in the numbers. The voice on the other end says, “U.S. Department of Health and Human Services. How may I direct your call?” “Please connect me to someone in charge of the Planned Golden Years cruise line.” “May I ask who is calling, sir?” “My name is Edwin Miller and I’m calling about my mother-in-law, Hilda Racker, who’s on your Mexican Riviera cruise.” I hear some clicks and about two minutes of elevator music before a female voice with a New York accent comes on. “Who are you calling about?” “I’m calling about Hilda Racker. That’s R-a-c-k-e-r.” “Just a moment, please, while I search our data base. Yes, here she is. Mr. Miller, I regret to inform you that Mrs. Racker died of pneumonia this morning.” “That can’t be right,” I tell her. “We were just talking to her on the phone a few moments ago.” There is a long pause, after which the voice says, “That’s impossible. Our passengers are not allowed access to telephones during the cruise. We have that rule so no one will disturb or upset our patients.” “Look lady,” I yell at her, “my wife just got off the phone with her, rules or no rules. And what’s this ‘patient’ crap? We thought she was on a pleasure cruise, not a hospital ship.” “Mr. Miller, I’m going to have to ask you where she got the phone? We don’t take lightly to rule breakers. Now, where did she get the phone?” “I have no idea. Why don’t you ask her yourself?” “You know very well we can’t do that, Mr. Miller, because she passed away this morning. Just one moment while I pull up her record. Okay, here it is. Hmm . . . I see here on the questionnaire that you wrote, and I quote, ‘I’ll be happy to get her out of my house and out of my life.’ I have this right here in your own handwriting. Please understand, Mr. Miller that our department’s mission statement contains a very important provision, ‘Every Senior a Wanted Senior.’ It’s clear you didn’t want her around anymore. And there’s another factor you must not overlook, sir. Mrs. Racker was seriously ill, and was certain to consume an enormous and inordinate amount of our country’s limited medical resources. Her recent demise from pneumonia was actually a blessing in disguise. You do realize that, do you not?” I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “Look, lady, we just finished talking to her, so your information about her dying of pneumonia is a damned lie. You’ve got the wrong person. I’m calling about Hilda Racker.” Shirley grabs the phone out of my hand. “Listen here, whoever you are, my mother hasn’t died of pneumonia, because I was just on the phone with her. I’m surprised she hasn’t died from the medical malpractice she’s been suffering at your hands, but she’s very much alive. So what the hell is going on with you lame brains?” The chilly voice says, “If you don’t keep a civil tongue, Mrs. Miller, I’m going to have to report you.” “Report me? Report me for what?” “Report you for creating an uncomfortable and hostile environment for me. It’s a federal offense to threaten an officer of the U.S. government, you know.” Shirley screams into the phone, “What in the hell are you talking about? I haven’t threatened you. I just want to find out what you people are doing to my mother.” The New York voice icily responds, “You’ll be hearing from us in due time, Mrs. Miller. We have this entire conversation on tape, and it will be turned over to the proper authorities . . .” Shirley cuts in, “Damn you and your authorities. I want to know what you’ve done to my mother. If you’ve harmed her in any way you’re all going to pay for it big time.” There is a ten second pause. Then the voice says, “As I said, you will be hearing from the authorities. I suggest you retain legal counsel. Goodbye.” Shirley is now shaking all over. “Ed, what are we going to do? I’m afraid they’ve done something terrible to Mother.” I go to the computer and type out an email to Raul and ask about Hilda and this pneumonia nonsense. No reply. I call Health and Human Services again. After I identify myself, I’m put on hold for at least ten minutes. Then a click and a dial tone. Shirley calls Congresswoman Lidwell’s office in Washington, explains the situation in detail, and asks if there is anything they can do to help us. After a minute on hold the secretary comes back on the line and gives us a number to call. It’s the phone number for the Los Angeles office of Planned Golden Years. We call them but there’s only a recording: the ship will be back in port tomorrow morning. We dial 9-1-1 in Los Angeles. The dispatcher, who can barely speak English, eventually gets the police watch commander on the phone. He says his department has no jurisdiction over any federal agency. We go to bed, but neither of us can sleep at all.

Day 18. We’re standing on Pier 4 along with several others watching them lower the gangplank from the ship to the pier. After about fifteen minutes several dozen young men and women in white uniforms disembark and quickly walk past us without saying a word. Then a thin, tall man in what looks like a ship’s officer’s uniform walks down the gangplank and heads in our direction, again looking neither to one side or the other, ignoring questions from the others on the pier who approach him. As he walks by I ask him, “Where are all the passengers?” He ignores me and continues on his way. I run after him, grab his arm, spin him around and yell in his face, “I asked you, where in the hell are all the passengers?” He looks at me as if he didn’t understand my question. “Passengers?” Then, after a brief pause he adds, “Oh, the passengers. Yes, of course. Over there. The cargo portal. We’ll be unloading them just as soon as we can get a forklift.”

Submitted July 13, 2015 at 02:28AM by CharliesLeg http://ift.tt/1HXG33N nosleep