"Owl" checked in...(I'm so punny!)

Owl in scrubs is from nieces, Claire and Grace, in Montana, made with love for Uncle Bob, at Build-a-Bear. . .

Not sure what the Maple Grove hospital thing was all about, but we got a call from the cardiologist nurse this a.m., telling us Bob's admission is good to go. She said all the info is in front if her, and if we encounter problems, she's at the clinic all day and can help us out. Even got a couple of emails from Bob's cardiologist, who is on vacation, btw, checking in to see that everything got straightened out. . .gotta love a doc who contacts patients while on vacation. I'm sure some of these doctors, even when on vacation, never really are...

Bob called his insurance company this a.m., to see if the could shed some light on the confusion, all they could say is that there was an initial admission with Maple Grove, then through the U...??? Maybe there's some connection between the two entities? They didn't say, or Bob didn't ask. Seems farfetched, but one never knows how these big, ugly beasts operate. . .

Whether it was an insurance issue, a hospital one, or perhaps not an issue at all, no one could tell us for sure, but I've seen enough goofy glitches turn into monumental issues on this krazy karnival ryde to know better than to assume anything. Murphy's law in action, again and again--if I don't say anything, a crises ensues; say something, and it all turns out okay...a few well-placed phone calls and emails to my "connections" never hurts. . .

So we got checked in without any problems and now we're up on 6c, (cardiology floor), room 19, window-side bed. Bob's got his man-purse strapped over his shoulder (a pouch that holds the telemetry unit monitoring his heart--a requirement on the floor). It's party- time. . . Thank god Bob's roomie is being discharged soon, a gravelly-voiced grump hacking and hocking up loogies left 'n' right, yum. . . arguing with his wife that he didn't need to come to the hospital, hopes she's happy about all the hassle it's been for him (even though, evidently, from her side of the conversation, he was ill enough to warrant a stent--or "stint," as they kept saying-- placed. . .)

Y'all are lucky I'm typing this on my iphone, which take me forever to plunk out a message, so I'm gonna quit rambling for now. Maybe I should use my phone for all future posts, keep 'em short 'n' sweet. If only you could be so lucky. . .xxoo!!!

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